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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315223">Univers Tombétemps: porté-bonheur</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouijadarling/pseuds/ouijadarling'>ouijadarling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Dimension Travel, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lila Rossi Bashing, Slow Burn, multiverse au, satan come get your daughter lila, so basically marinette travels back to the original pv, so marinette dies but then she doesnt die because im hot like that, tw harassment/bullying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:15:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouijadarling/pseuds/ouijadarling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marinette falls through one of Bunnyx's time burrows, she never expected to wake up in an alternate universe, yet here she is. Hawk Moth is gone, replaced by Le Papillon, and nothing is the same. Her best friend is Chloé Bourgeois. She's (apparently) madly in love with Félix Graham de Vanily. The only thing that makes sense is Ladybug. </p><p>Marinette can't go back now, she knows. The only thing she can do now is live.</p><p>(or, an AU where Marinette Dupain-Cheng falls into the universe of the Miraculous anime PV and discovers her true self along the way.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Bridgette/Félix Graham de Vanily, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Félix Graham de Vanily</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>445</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Falling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Canon? Never heard of her.<br/>Buckle up bitches, 'cause this is going to be a hell of a ride.<br/>--Lalie</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Marinette had to pin down an exact moment when things started to go wrong, it would have been the moment Rena Rouge’s pendant ran out just as she turned to smile at Ladybug and Chat Noir only seconds after defeating their latest Akumatized villain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Alya gasped as her suit flashed away and Trixx popped out. She took the necklace from around her neck gingerly and extended her finger for Trixx to tap gently. “I must not have been paying attention to the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay!” Trixx reassured her. “Everyone makes mistakes.” The little Fox kwami zipped around Alya’s head as the red-haired girl turned to Ladybug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug wasn’t looking at Chat Noir, but she was sure he would have the same expression of shock. No, no, no. This had happened before, and the results were still weighing on Marinette’s mind. Chat Blanc had been created as a result of Ladybug’s stupid mistake, so what consequences would Chat Noir’s discovery reap?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all her self-control not to snatch the pendant from Alya’s hand. She took it gently and laid it back in the box. “I’m sorry, Alya. But now that your identity has been revealed, I can no longer give you a Miraculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait!” Chat Noir protested. “Rena’s a great superhero! Just because I found out who she really is doesn’t mean you never have to give her back her Miraculous!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the rule!” Ladybug snapped. “And rules cannot be broken, or Hawk Moth will gain control of the Miraculous box and use it for his own gain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Alya’s eyes were on the box in Ladybug’s hands. “You mean I can’t ever see Trixx again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Ladybug said again. “But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No buts,” Chat Noir cut her off. “You can’t do that, okay? It’s not like it was a one-time thing. Rena’s helped us out plenty. And it’s not just us, either. You gave her the fox Miraculous, and she and her kwami were friends. What if you were forced to give up your kwami forever because of one mistake? How would you feel then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the floor had been ripped out from under me, Ladybug thought. “I would do what was right. If I made a mistake, I would accept the consequences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you would,” Chat Noir said. His tone was flat. “You are Ladybug, after all.” Before she could respond, he had left. Alya was still staring at the box in Ladybug’s hands, her eyes heavy and teary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure I can’t ever...not even…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Ladybug repeated uselessly. Her best friend was crying now, and the worst of it was that she didn’t even know it was Marinette. “I have to go.” Her earrings were flashing. She hooked her yo-yo around the top of the nearest building and soared away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have saved us once again, Marinette,” Master Fu said as she placed the Fox Miraculous back in the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the cost of a superhero,” Marinette said glumly. “It was my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Rena Rouge knew the cost,” Master Fu replied. “All things come in time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I took her friend away from her. She and Trixx were friends, just like Tikki and I are. And now she can’t ever see Trixx again. And what if something happens just like when-” She stopped. Master Fu was unaware, as was everyone else except her and Bunnyx, of what had happened when Chat Noir discovered her secret identity. “I mean, what if she’s angry with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She should not be.” Master Fu shook his head. “I do not believe anyone would be angry with you for upholding order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Marinette rested her chin in her palm. “Somehow I don’t really believe that.”</span>
</p><p><span>The next day was Friday, and Marinette hurried to school with a sinking feeling in her stomach. What if Alya wasn’t there?</span><span><br/></span> <span>But the redhead was in her usual seat, messing with her phone and typing rapidly. Marinette slid into the seat next to her and nudged her. “What’s up?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“The usual,” Alya said. “I have to update the Ladyblog--I totally forgot yesterday’s entry.” She showed Marinette her phone, on the screen of which was blazoned the headline </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ladybug Revealed?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Another possible expose of Ladybug….what do you think?” So she was okay after all. Marinette breathed a small sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think maybe Ladybug’s identity is a secret </span>
  <em>
    <span>for a reason!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She giggled as Alya bumped her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just don’t have any faith in the news,” her friend said, and then quieted as Mme Bustier entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, everyone, settle down now. It’s time to get started with class!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened, and Adrien slid into the seat in front of Marinette and Alya just as the teacher finished talking, and opened up his book. Marinette settled herself into gazing at the back of his blond head: if the day ever came when she couldn’t do that, she wasn’t sure what she would do with herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After school was over, Marinette and Alya started out for the ice cream stand. “I’m dying for something cold,” Alya said. “What flavor do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strawberries and cream, of course,” Marinette answered. “That is, if Andre doesn’t decide to give me a custom flavor. It’s nice and all, but sometimes I want some plain strawberry ice cream!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, if Adrien was there, I bet you wouldn’t mind a brand-new flavor,” Alya teased. “How about orange and blackberry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even mention that,” Marinette complained. Then a wave of pain rolled over her, and she stopped stock-still on the sidewalk. “Oww!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter?” Alya stopped too, and that was when Marinette saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The road was tilting, the cobblestones wavering as a strange fog distorted them. The street widened and dilated, expanded and narrowed again as though they were melting. Marinette’s vision went double, and she blinked reflexively, trying to dispel the distorted duos of everything around her. Even Alya was blurring into two, red hair melting and bending in the haze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, is everything okay, girl? You look like you’re about to drop.” Her friend’s face-no, faces, were concerned, and Marinette fought off a whimper. What was going on? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette?” Alya asked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fine!” Marinette choked out. “I think I’m getting sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we should hurry to your house,” Alya urged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s stomach flipped and she heaved. In the corner of her vision, she saw a sparkling circle just behind her. One of Bunnyx’s portals. But where was Bunnyx herself? Another portal opened behind Alya, whose worried gaze was fixed on Marinette too hard to notice what was going on. But portals opening never affected Marinette like this. They shouldn’t have been able to. “Urgh…” Her stomach felt like it was turning inside out. She clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a retch. “This isn’t right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Alya said, grabbing her hand. “It’ll be okay, just hang in there for a few more minutes until we get to your house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They never made it back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cobblestones under their feet surged up in one great wave, a ripple bulging out from where they stood. For one moment Marinette had her balance, and the next, the bulge had shocked out from under her and sent her flying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She screamed as she toppled into the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her vision blurred and fogged over and she threw up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette, get out of the road!” Alya shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette stood up unsteadily, just in time for a truck which certainly hadn’t been there a minute ago to hit her straight on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As though her friend was yelling into a tunnel, from many miles away she heard Alya scream “Marinette!”, and then her vision availed itself of her and everything went black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She woke up in her bedroom at home, with her parents’ worried faces hovering over her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette! You’re awake!” her father cried. Her mother burst into tears immediately, and Marinette blinked. Even her father looked near to tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” she said groggily. Her stomach hurt and her head ached like it had been stuffed with cotton.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fainted on the sidewalk,” her father said gently. “Luckily your friend was able to carry you home, but you wouldn’t wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. What?” Marinette sat up. “That’s not right. I was hit by a truck after I tripped and fell into the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you just fainted,” her dad told her. “Thank goodness for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette frowned. She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt </span>
  </em>
  <span>the truck smash into her, felt the pain afterward that had flooded through her, felt her body go limp and be thrown into the air, and then everything had gone dark. There was no way she could have only fainted, but if her parents said so… “Oh. How long have I been out for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost three days,” her father replied. “We were going to take you to the hospital today. Your friend came by this morning to ask if you were okay. She seemed very upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope Alya’s alright,” Marinette said. “Did she say anything else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alya?” Sabine looked strangely at Marinette. “No, you don’t know anyone named Alya. It was Chloè that came by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chloè?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marinette’s voice came out several pitches higher than normal. “B-but why would she do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been best friends for years,” her mother said. “Of course she would want to know if you were alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette let out a choked laugh and slid back down under the covers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chloè </span>
  </em>
  <span>was her best friend? This had to be a dream.</span>
</p><p><span>“Honey?” her dad asked, concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“I’m fine! Totally fine! Just need a minute!” Marinette gasped out. Her parents left the room, closing the door with a soft </span><em><span>click </span></em><span>behind them, and that was when Tikki zipped out from under her pillow.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Marinette! I was so worried!” The little kwami was shaking with distress. Marinette hiccuped out a sob and hugged Tikki tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so glad you’re here, at least. Did you hear my parents? They said Chloè was my best friend; not Alya! And I know for a fact that I was hit by a truck. I definitely didn’t just pass out on the sidewalk,” Marinette said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I felt you get hit,” Tikki said solemnly. “I really thought you were dead, but then we entered the portal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Portal?” Marinette sat bolt upright. “You-you mean this is another world? One of Bunnyx’s different pasts or futures? But that means my other self is here somewhere!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Marinette,” Tikki cut her off. “I think you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>your other self now. This is your world. I felt it the moment we came through. You belong. If it had been the wrong future, another Tikki would have begun existing immediately. But it’s only me, and yet, my consciousness exists back in the last world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it,” Marinette said hopelessly. “Another you? Your consciousness?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In time you’ll understand,” Tikki replied. “For now, I think it’s safe to assume that this world also requires a Ladybug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if it requires a Ladybug, that means….there’s a Chat Noir here too!” Marinette filled in. “At least one person will be the same!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think--” Tikki said, but Marinette was already out of bed and rifling through the drawers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s see what else we can find out about this other me,” she said, her voice muffled as she stuck her head into the lowest drawer, filled with socks and underwear. There was nothing of importance in that drawer, nor the others either. But there was a strange lack of the things Marinette would normally wear. She pulled out a white long sleeve shirt with three buttons and a collar, as well as a dark blue sweater vest. “What’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki was rattling hangers in the closet. “There’s lots of skirts in here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Happily, Marinette threw open the closet, expecting to see lacy skirts and delicate wrap tops, but what she saw instead were rows of dark blue and black pleated skirts and black and blue blazers, as well as thin ties. “Oh….Tikki, I think I might go to a private school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy,” Tikki approved. “Maybe then your grades will improve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha ha,” Marinette muttered. “You know I hate studying. I would much rather design clothes!” Yet, as she looked around the room, she didn’t see a single sign of the clothes patterns and sewing needles she loved so much. There wasn’t so much as an errant scrap of paper to scribble down inspiration on. Her room was still pink and pretty, but the desk was neat and white, with a tidy stack of schoolbooks and a box of perfectly sharpened pencils next to it. Even the computer was different--it was a sleek silver thing with a printer and scanner connected to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most upsetting were the walls. Marinette reached out a hand to touch the bare pink wall, near tears. “My pictures….they’re gone!” Indeed, all the carefully curated photos of Adrien, cut from catalogs and magazines, and online blogs, outlined with hearts and stickers, were absent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m not a fashion designer, and Adrien isn’t a model, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what kind of a horrible life am I living!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marinette threw herself on her bed, shoving her face into a pillow, and screamed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Marinette?” Tikki tried. “If it makes you feel better, I found something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing will make me feel better,” Marinette moaned, but she pried her tear-sticky face off her pillow and held out her hands. A flat rectangle dropped into them, soft fabric rubbing against her palms. “A book?” Marinette blinked at it. It was a small book, jacketed in light pink fabric with a ribbon tying it shut. In one corner was a little heart sharpied in black with the initials M + F on it in miniscule letters, almost too small to read. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Marinette untied the ribbon and opened the book to the cover page. On it was written the words in neat print, nothing like Marinette’s rushed, loopy handwriting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Property of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Please return if found! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>More curious than ever, Marinette flipped to the next page. On it was a date: July 9. “My birthday?” she said aloud. “Then this must have been a birthday present.” Tikki hovered over her shoulder to read it as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>July 9. I’ve received this diary as a birthday present, so what better way to use it than to record my progress? So far I’ve been keeping his schedule written down in my school notebook, but it’s annoying to keep pulling it out. If I put it all in here, no one will snoop, because they know better. I hope!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>3:45: Returns home from school. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>3:50: Begins homework after a short pause.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>4:30: Finishes homework. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>4:35: Chinese lesson, private tutor comes to the residence. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>5:05: Tutor returns home. Short pause again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>5:10: Studies literature and mathematics.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>5:30: Studies in science and history.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>5:50: Short pause.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>6:00: Personal time. Mostly he reads in his library or in his room, or practices.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>6:30: Dinner. He eats alone most of the time but sometimes his babysitter is there. On Sundays he eats with his grandfather.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>7:15: Short pause. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>7:20: </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette stopped. What had been written in the 7:20 blank had been scribbled over many times and blacked out with lead. Underneath it were the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not to be recorded at any time. Not to be disturbed during. Not to interfere with. Not to make physical contact. Not to make verbal contact.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like whoever ‘he’ is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t want the other Marinette to be around at 7:20,” Marinette noted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But doesn’t it sound a little bit like Adrien’s schedule?” Tikki suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Marinette said dismissively. “Adrien doesn’t study for that long, I would know. Plus, he doesn’t use the library in the Agreste house for much. It’s not very big, anyway. So I don’t think it’s his schedule. Maybe this Marinette has another crush instead of Adrien.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Tikki said doubtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, there was a knock on the door. Marinette shrieked and threw the diary across the room, where it thunked down behind her bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette? Honey?” her mom called. “Your friend is here to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her feet were off the ground and she was flying across the bedroom before she realised that her mother most likely meant Chloé, and not Alya. Deflated, Marinette opened the door anyway. It might be good to talk to someone who could help her figure out what was going on. Tikki flew into her pocket to hide as the door opened fully. </span>
</p><p><span>Her mom had her hand on the shoulder of Chloé</span> <span>Bourgeois, who had a faintly nervous expression on her face, uncharacteristically so. Marinette had never seen the blonde with any other expression but disdain. </span></p><p>
  <span>Marinette smiled weakly. “Uh...hi, Chloé.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chloé snapped. There. That sounded more like her. She threw her arms around Marinette and hugged her tightly. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when you just fainted? In the middle of the sidewalk, no less, where there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gum </span>
  </em>
  <span>and people have </span>
  <em>
    <span>walked on </span>
  </em>
  <span>and God knows what has touched it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrmsmph,” Marinette said, her face crushed by Chloé’s designer jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde released her. “Come on. I haven’t had </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk to for the last three days. It was horrible at school. Utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She turned to Marinette’s mother, smiling fondly at the two of them. “Mme Dupain-Cheng, can Marinette and I go get ice cream? I promise we’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette shot her mother a plea for help with her eyes, but Sabine ignored it.“Of course,” Sabine replied to Chloé. “You girls go have fun. But Marinette, if you get tired or start feeling faint again, come right home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sure,” Chloé said quickly, grabbing Marinette’s hand in a death grip and dragging her towards the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, honey!” Sabine called as the door closed behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily for Marinette’s blood circulation, Chloé released her hand when they reached the sidewalk. “So, I hope you have a fantastic explanation for why I couldn’t talk to you or call you for the last three days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, um,” Marinette started. It was difficult to form words when she was talking to Chloé, because for the first time in Marinette’s knowledge, the other girl wasn’t being mean. She actually seemed as though she cared about Marinette, but it was still disconcerting to see the change. “I was kind of...asleep.”</span>
</p><p><span>“For three days?” Chloé scoffed. “And here I</span> <span>thought you were just ignoring me.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“I’m not lying,” Marinette said. “And there’s something else, too.” The ice cream stand was just up ahead, and Chloé hurried Marinette towards it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need ice cream before I can talk about anything serious, Dupain-Cheng. You should know that by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yes.” Rubbing her forehead, which had begun to ache again, Marinette stepped up to Andre’s ice cream stand that had boasted the best ice cream in Paris. But where was Andre? Instead of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>glazier, </span>
  </em>
  <span>there was a young woman with monolid brown eyes and a blush-pink braid scooping ice cream. She beamed at Chloé and Marinette as they approached the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello!” she said cheerfully. “It’s been awhile, Chloé. Marinette. Can I get you your usuals?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,”  Chloé huffed, but Marinette detected faint redness on the other girl’s cheeks. “I assume you still know it, at least. Or did you forget?” she challenged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I know what you want, how could I </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>forget?” the girl retorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Chloé stepped up to the counter until she was eye to eye with the</span>
  <em>
    <span> glazier</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Is that supposed to mean something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even a little bit,” the girl said cheerfully, handing Chloé an ice cream cone. “Double raspberry and whipped cream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,”  Chloé conceded. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette reeled back in shock. Not once in the last nine years she had known Chloé had she ever heard the blonde say ‘thank you’ for anything. She took a closer look at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>glazier </span>
  </em>
  <span>and saw nothing remarkable about her. This girl must have some kind of hypnotism over Chloé in order to subdue her so quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for Marinette, strawberries and cream,” the girl said, breaking Marinette from her thoughts to hand her a sugar cone. “</span>
  <span>€ 6.50</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé handed over a wad of notes, snapping “Keep the change” before whirling around and marching away with purpose. The girl waved after her retreating back with a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye,” Marinette said as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a minute,” the </span>
  <em>
    <span>glazier</span>
  </em>
  <span> said, stopping Marinette. “Could you ask Chloé if she’d like to attend this party with me?” She handed Marinette an invitation and a small silver-papered ticket. “It’s this Saturday, and I need a date. Please ask her, if you don’t mind.” The girl had a hopeful expression, and far be it from Marinette to turn her down, no matter how confused she was with all this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell her,” Marinette said, tucking the ticket into her pocket. “Thank you for the ice cream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be thanking you,” the </span>
  <em>
    <span>glazier</span>
  </em>
  <span> told her. “Have a good day!” She waved as Marinette hurried to follow Chloé on her way to whatever spot the other girl wanted to go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, their normal hangout spot was the park, because that was where they ended up; Chloé parking herself on a bench to eat her ice cream and Marinette hovering uncomfortably around nearby--even sitting on the bench next to Chloé felt like an overstep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit </span>
  <em>
    <span>down,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chloé ordered impatiently. “Didn’t you have something to tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Marinette began. “It’s kind of a long story. And it’s not exactly believable…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you,” Chloé said promptly. “So tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three days ago, I was on my way home from school with my best friend, Alya, and then I got hit by a truck. I woke up here and my parents told me I fainted on the sidewalk, and you were my best friend instead. My room looks completely different, and all my photos of Adrien are gone!” Marinette wailed. “And the worst thing is three days ago, you completely hated my guts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé looked like she’d been run over with a cement mixer--completely and utterly dumbfounded. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Marinette said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde looked thoughtfully at her. “Does this have anything to do with your...spotted problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Marinette asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé immediately bit her lip. “Sorry! I forgot I’m not supposed to bring it up when we’re in the open. Could it be that maybe you had a weird dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dream wouldn’t change my room and take out all my clothes and things,” Marinette said. “And besides, I remember everything from before. It’s here that I don’t remember--everything is different and not a single person except you and my parents is the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Chloé followed along with Marinette’s explanations, tossing out suggestions every now and then. But until Chloé’s phone rang and she pulled it out, they hadn’t thought of a single pertinent answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for one thing, really. Halfway through Marinette’s explanation, Chloé had mentioned someone. A boy, it sounded like. Someone that Former Marinette had had strong feelings for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrien!” Marinette exclaimed. “He’s here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé had tossed her a strange look. “Adrien? No, F-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her phone rang with the strains of the latest pop song before she could finish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy?” Chloé said into the phone. “Where am I? At the park with Marinette, obviously.” Her father on the other end said something else, and Chloé hung up quickly. “My parents want me home to make an appearance at their charity event. Are you coming over tonight like normal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Marinette said uncertainly. Was that something Former Marinette would have done? </span>
</p><p><span>“Well, call me if you decide you want to,” Chloé told her. “Gotta go! Maybe once you see</span> <span>him, you’ll remember everything, including your misguided affection!” </span></p><p>
  <span>Marinette made her way back home alone, the streets so familiar and at the same time, so strange. This was not the life she knew. And if she was supposed to have a crush on someone who wasn’t Adrien, did that mean that he wasn’t here either?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning her alarm went off on her phone, shaking Marinette from sleep. The readout said 7:15, and she jumped up. “Tikki, what day is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kwami rubbed her eyes. “Monday, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monday? But that means I have school,” Marinette said. “Maybe I’ll find people I know!” With that hope in mind, she ran to her closet to pull out her clothes, no matter how dull and boring the colors and styles were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she’d gotten dressed, in a black blazer over a collared white shirt tucked into a dark blue skirt, as well as tights and black patent shoes, it felt like the beginning of something. Marinette tied her narrow blue tie tightly and tried to think good thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when her mother dropped her off at the school’s entrance, kissing her on the cheek and telling her to have a good day, the sickening realisation that she didn’t know a single person there threatened to swallow her up. No one looked familiar, and no one looked twice at her. Everyone looked identical in their blue and black and white uniforms, streaming up the stairs with messenger bags and backpacks slung over their shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé had texted, saying she would be late because she wanted to grab a latte and asked if Marinette wanted anything. So that meant that she’d be on her own until class started. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fifteen minutes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marinette thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can handle that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped into the school with mounting trepidation. It looked nothing like her normal public school. Everything was fancy and overdone, with thick plush carpeting and shiny marble floors and pillars with carved emblems in each one. Even the stairs were spiral, with golden handrails that looked too expensive to touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, watch out!” She’d been walking so slowly when she stopped to stare, two boys behind her bumped into each other and nearly fell. Marinette was already apologising as she tried to help them up, but they only scowled at her. “Be more careful,” one of them barked. “And move out of the way if you’re going to just stand there and gawp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry!” Hastily, Marinette threw open the nearest door and dived inside. It was the library, she saw with relief. Huge and high-ceilinged, with shelves of books that looked glossy and new, as though they’d just been bought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made her way through the stacks, wondering where she could put her bag down and sit for a moment before class, when her gaze landed on something that made her heart stutter and miss a beat. Her pulse pounded, and she let out a squeak. Blonde hair, the back of the head, one that she would know anywhere. Fingers reaching to pull out a volume from the shelf. Like he’d stepped out from her imagination, he was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrien?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Realize That Félix Doesn’t Have Any Time For A Social Life So He Might As Well Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>new questions spring up.<br/>will marinette ever find the answers?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Adrien!” Without thinking, Marinette threw her arms around him from behind and buried her face in the back of his jacket. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” she said, her voice muffled by the coat. She couldn’t have stood going one more day without seeing anyone she knew. Thank goodness Adrien was here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she found herself being pushed away roughly. Startled, Marinette tripped and almost fell, but caught herself before she hit the library floor. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve told you a thousand times not to hug me,” Adrien snapped. His tone was icy cold, and Marinette flinched. “Stop following me everywhere, will you? I thought after last night you would take a hint, but clearly, you cannot.”</span>
</p><p><span>“A-ah….what?” Marinette backed up even further, confused. Why was Adrien acting so chilly? He would never have been so cold to her. She blinked away tears as the truth hit her, because she had gotten her hopes up for nothing. Marinette really was on her own in this horrible, upside-down world where nothing was the same. Not even her beloved Adrien. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I thought you were someone else. I won’t bother you again.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>To her surprise, Adrien laughed, but not warmly. It sounded more as though he was laughing at her. “That’s a new one. Since when have you ever left me alone?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“I-I-” Marinette stuttered. It was so hard to form words when all she wanted to do was curl up and sob in a corner. “I’m really sorry, I am. It’s just, I got hit on the head last week and now I can’t seem to remember anything or anyone. And I thought you were Adrien, but you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re just acting like a jerk!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reaction was as though she had struck him. He dropped his book and stared at her. “You really did get hit on the head. There’s no way Dupain-Cheng would ever call me a jerk.” He tapped her lightly on the side of her head. “How hard did you hit it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch!” Marinette batted his hand away. “Don’t touch it!” She glared at him before her brain caught up. Wait a minute, she thought, I can’t glare at Adrien! He’d think I didn’t like him! “I mean, don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say.” He sounded bored. “Before you recover your senses and either collapse on me or blush and stutter like an imbecile, do tell me who this other boy you seem to have confused me with is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrien,” Marinette said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I regret to inform you that my name is Félix. Félix de Graham Vanily. Now please, leave before you remember that you have an unhealthy obsession with me. It’s extremely tiresome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not Adrien?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Adrien--Félix?-- scoffed. “Now if you’re quite done acting like a brain-dead bat, perhaps you could leave me alone to study before class. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-okay. Sure, sure.” Marinette backed away, her hands held up placatingly. This couldn’t be happening. The one thing she had been certain of was that she had Adrien, but this Adrien, rather Félix, seemed to despise her completely. Or at least he disliked the previous Marinette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now that she looked closer at him, he wasn’t the Adrien she knew by heart. No, there were subtle differences between the Adrien she liked and this one. His face was slightly narrower, his chin more pointed, and his eyes were emerald chips of ice rather than open and grass-green. Adrien would also have worn his standard soft tee and jeans, whereas Félix was wearing a tailored suit of charcoal and black, his shoes polished to a perfect shine. Even his cravat was perfectly tied, the edges crisp and ironed-sharp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even their hair and heights were different. Adrien was closer to her height, but this one was at least five inches taller than her. His hair was also neater, more slicked-back than Adrien would have had it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But everything about him was Adrien nonetheless. And at that moment, Marinette resolved to make this new Adrien, like her just as much as the previous one had. And maybe even more, considering how Félix treated her as though she had already made known her strong feelings for him. She pounded her fist into her palm with determination. “Former Marinette, I won’t let you down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes later, the bell rang loudly, startling Marinette. She jumped up, grabbing her backpack and joining the flow of students now making their way to classrooms and lockers. And that was when she realised she had no idea where her class was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw a blonde head, taller than the rest up ahead in the crush of people flowing out of the library doors and ran to catch up, shouting “Félix!” to get his attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned, looking annoyed. “What is it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chilly as his tone was, it didn’t ruffle Marinette. She had dealt with Chloé, Lila, and Kagami--this was nothing. “I forgot where my classroom was,” Marinette said. “Do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix released a long-suffering sigh. “Must you continue this charade? It’s not doing you any favors.” But he started walking again, jerking his head in a brusque motion that indicated Marinette was to follow. She did so happily--at least he was being civil, if not cordial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her classroom turned out to be off the main hallway, and she was relieved to note that it looked just like her previous one. “Thank you!” she told Félix brightly, and started in before noticing that he was still standing there. “Aren’t you going to go to class, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This happens to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>my class,” Félix snapped. “Aren’t you taking things a little too far?” He went in, brushing by her and taking a seat in the first row--where Adrien would have sat next to Nino. All the other seats were already filled, the only one left being where Marinette would have sat with Alya. She took a seat there and waited for Chloé to arrive and class to begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde breezed in at the same time that the teacher rapped the lectern and called for attention, please. “I know it’s Monday, but that’s no excuse for you all to be so disorderly,” the teacher said. He was a semi-elderly man with graying hair and an arthritic stoop, nothing like the young, redhaired Mme Bustier. “In your seat now, Miss Bourgeois.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé slid into the seat next to Marinette, handing her a steaming cup with a lid. “Your favourite. I had the chef make you some snacks, too, to remind you what you like and all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing the cup to her lips, Marinette sipped cautiously, foam and espresso hitting her with alternative bites of sweet and bitter. “Cappuccino?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, your usual favourite,” Chloé whispered. “You still like it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her normal world, Marinette had never really enjoyed coffee--it was too bitter for her sweet-inclined taste buds, but for some reason, she found herself enjoying her drink. “I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé relaxed. “Well, at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing hasn’t changed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easy for you to say, Marinette thought. If the Chloé that Marinette had grown up knowing for nine years’ world had turned upside down, she probably wouldn’t be taking it with as much grace as Marinette had decided to. No, most likely she’d be dialling every number in her phone and screaming for Mayor Bourgeois to fix it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Chloé sitting next to her, though, actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>paying attention </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the lesson, though, might have another reaction. Marinette would have to find out more about what had made this Chloé so different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After school was over, she and Chloé parted ways, with Chloé reminding her that she had to come over for their regular sleepover that they had every two nights, and there would be no getting out of this one, the blonde ordered as she got into the limo that apparently picked her up from school to take her to wherever it was that she went on the daily.  (To sacrifice small animals to the gods of hair and makeup, Marinette decided). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although, since Chloé seemed to be a bit more fashion-forward than she had before, with trendy outfits that looked as though she’d custom-ordered each piece and matching shoes for each, and there had been a strange number of magazine covers with her on them, Marinette assumed that her friend was a model in this world, rather than Adrien. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette started down the sidewalk at a snail’s pace, so exhausted was she from the day. Apparently though, Mme Bustier had gone through the entire curriculum in one term, because it was barely the end of the first term here and Marinette was way ahead. At least her grades would be somewhat decent?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dupain-Cheng!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette turned. Félix was making his way towards her, looking even more irked than he had all day. “Do you realise I’ve been trying to catch up with you all day? It must be hard having the attention span of a fruit fly,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette ignored the jab and folded her arms. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed her hand and stuck something small and metallic into it, curling her fingers over it. “You keep that. I don’t know why you would give me something as tasteless as </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Puzzled, Marinette looked down at her hand--in it was a small pin with a large crack down the middle with smaller fractures splintering out across the face of it. “When did I give this to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night, obviously,”  Félix said. “Your misguided attempts to pretend it never happened are flattering, but it’s annoying. I won’t say anything, however, so you don’t need to worry about it.” He stalked away without another word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette huffed. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Adrien!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stomped home in a high furor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette? What’s wrong, sweetheart?” her mother asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>Félix de Graham Vanily!” Marinette stormed. “The day I ever like him will be the day I drop dead!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging by the concerned looks her parents shot one another, Marinette decided that they were most likely aware of their (former) daughter’s crush on Félix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before she could erase Félix from her mind forever, she had to figure out why he and she were at odds. The first order of business, Marinette decided, was to find out what had happened ‘last night.’ Adrien had referred to it in the library, and he seemed annoyed about it. So, she reasoned, by finding out precisely what the incident was, she could apologise accordingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she flipped open the diary, rescued from its landing spot behind her bed, and opened the pink-tinted pages to where she had left off, at the schedule that she now realised must be Félix’s. The 7:20 space was still heavily blacked out, but Marinette hadn’t been friends with Alya for nothing. If there was one thing she had learned from the red-haired reporter, it was that information could </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>be unearthed. Marinette dragged the lamp on her desk closer and flicked the second button. It was as she had thought--the second bulb sprang into place, a blacklit UV one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding the page as close as she could to the UV lamp, Marinette waited. In seconds, words began to make themselves known underneath the heavy pencilling. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Félix’s piano practise, either at home or in the music room at school. Only allowed to practise at home when his grandfather is absent(?). </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh,” Marinette murmured. So the other Marinette must have interrupted, either accidentally or on purpose, to confess to him, and...most likely gotten rejected or yelled at. Knowing what she had seen of Félix so far, both options seemed viable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She messed with the pin in her fingers, the one Félix had shoved into her hand. It seemed like the other Marinette had given it to him, maybe as a confession gift? The point of the pin cut into her finger a little bit, and she dropped it hastily with an exclamation. Tikki, who had been dozing on the shiny chrome top of Marinette’s laptop, woke up at her cry. “What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just pricked myself,” Marinette told her. “You go back to sleep; you need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Tikki’s large eyes were fixed on the pin. “Where did you get that?” The little kwami swooped down and snatched it up. “Did someone give that to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Félix gave it to me,” Marinette said in confusion. “Earlier. I think Former Marinette had tried to give it to him, but he didn’t want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea what this is?” Tikki held it up for Marinette’s closer inspection. It was the outline of an enamelled peacock, with glittering gems embedded in the tail feathers for eyes, and blue and green detailing. “It’s the Peacock Miraculous, the one that Mayura currently has in the other world. But...it’s broken. Beyond repair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean the kwami is gone?” Marinette asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duusu must be,” Tikki said mournfully. “Otherwise he would have shown himself to you when he sensed that you had a Miraculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why would the other Marinette have this?” Marinette put her forehead on the desk, the coolness soothing. “Nothing makes any sense!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her phone rang with a call, and Marinette startled up and hit the green accept button. </span>
</p><p><span>“Dupain-Cheng! You were supposed to be at my house five minutes ago!” Chloé barked. “Get over here and no excuses! Not even amnesia is going to stop you from </span><em><span>your</span></em> <em><span>job!”</span></em></p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now!” Chloé hung up before Marinette could get a word in edgewise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it sounds like you should go,” Tikki said. “It sounds like you and Chloé really are good friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss Alya,” Marinette mumbled. She shoved clothes into a bag, as well as her pajamas and toothbrush. “But you’re right, I should go. It’s not fair of me to avoid the friends I have here just because I can’t remember them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, her parents didn’t seem surprised that she was heading to Chloé’s. Her mother treated it as a daily occurrence, only reminding Marinette to brush her teeth and not stay up too late, and her dad hugged her tightly before she left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel better soon, okay?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Dad,” Marinette said, hugging him back. It was good to have her parents, even if everything else was completely wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the door closed, she heard him mention something to her mother about “Maybe Marinette would like it if --- came home for a little bit, just to help her remember.” The name was indiscernible, but Marinette bounced a little bit when she heard the other words--maybe it was her grandfather her dad was talking about. She wondered, though, what kind of a relationship they had in this world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she started running, because Chloé had sounded really impatient over the phone. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Nighttime Dat--Patrol, I meant Akuma Patrol</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Valentine's Day! For a special treat, an update ahead of schedule. </p><p>Note: No idea why Marinette makes so many macarons. They are absolutely hellish to bake and when Ailie tried, they came out FLAT. If you're ever having a good day, go try to bake macarons to remind yourself that you are nothing. <br/>Enjoy the chapter though &lt;3<br/>--Lalie</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marinette could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in the Hotel Paris, even as Ladybug. It was nerve-wracking to step up to the glass double doors of the hotel, remembering how she’d been turned away by the doorman the time she’d come to Chloé’s as Marinette in the other world. But today, he smiled kindly at her and opened the door, telling her to “Go right in, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all Marinette could do to keep her mouth closed and not gape in confusion, instead turning her lips up into a nervous smile. She made her way through the lobby and to the elevator bank, pushing the button for Chloé’s floor and hoisting her bag more securely over her shoulder. Her palms were sweating by the time she knocked on the door-she half expected security to come drag her out for intruding on the premises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in!” Chloé yelled from inside. “And close the door behind you tightly, it’s freezing!” </span>
</p><p><span>Shutting the door with a click, keeping out the perfectly 68</span><span>°</span> <span>air, Marinette entered the spacious suite and looked around for </span><span>Chloé. The blonde was sprawled on the couch in fuzzy pajama pants and a yellow and black striped tank top, taking photos of herself. Upon closer inspection, Marinette realized it had a highly stylized anime-girl Queen Bee on the front, outlined in sparkly black glitter. So apparently even here, Chloé enjoyed milking her superhero self. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Hurry up and drop your bag,” Chloé ordered. “We have to eat quickly so you can go ahead and go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obediently, Marinette let her bag plop to the ground on top of the pink and white Swiss dotted sleeping bag, assuming (correctly) that Chloé had coordinated the sleeping bag to her pajamas. “Where am I going?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you forgot that too!”</span>
</p><p><span>“Ah...ha.” Marinette shrugged her shoulders. “Kinda?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You know!” Chloé leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered “</span><em><span>The superhero thing!” </span></em></p><p>
  <span>Marinette jumped. “Superhero?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé knew that she was Ladybug?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chloé huffed. “Why would you not tell me? We’re best friends, Dupain-Cheng.” She pulled Marinette into a sitting position on the couch next to her, looping one arm around Marinette so she couldn’t escape, and held her phone for Marinette to see. “ Now, observe. I, the fore-thinking and amazing Chloé Bourgeois, have put together a video compilation of you and yours greatest moments. Or, if you want to put it another way, stupidest.” She clicked play with one manicured fingernail, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For fifteen minutes, Marinette sat in stunned silence and horror as she watched herself run down the school hallway yelling “Félix! Félix, wait!” after her supposed crush, tripping and almost breaking her neck on the stone stairs of the academy, interspersed with clips of herself and Chloé vacationing on the beach, at a lake house, in a snowy landscape, or Marinette offering macarons to Félix only to be turned away…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really do like him,” Marinette whimpered, agonized. There was only one reason why she would go to such extents, and it was for the person she liked. But the only person she would do that for would be Adrien. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an affliction,” Chloé sighed, ending the video on a clip of her and Marinette eating dinner at what looked like a rooftop restaurant. “Personally, I don’t get all the fuss about him. He’s vaguely attractive, but I despise people who are rude for no reason.” She tossed her blonde ponytail with a superior expression. “And you acted like a fool, too. Every time you approached him, you started stuttering uncontrollably and blushing all over the place. Thank God that’s over. Maybe now that you’re not an idiot anymore he’ll like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want him to like me!” Marinette said furiously. “Not now and not ever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say that now,” Chloé said sagely. The doorbell rang, cutting off Marinette’s tirade that had been about to burst forth. “I’ll go get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde opened the door, accepting two steaming cardboard boxes, and handed the deliveryman a wad of notes. She brought the boxes back to the sleeping bag and pillow setup and placed them on the glass coffee table. Marinette stared. “Pizza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vaguely Marinette remembered her foray, in the other world, into the Hotel Paris with a motorcycle helmet and pizza box, and also how upon seeing it, Chloé had called it ‘peasant food.’ But she accepted a slice of pizza, dripping with sauce and melted cheese, as Chloé bit into her own slice avidly. Some things, she would have to accept, were very different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway through a movie that Chloé had picked out, some rom-com that Marinette was only half paying attention to the plot of, both their phones buzzed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Akuma Alert, </span>
  </em>
  <span>blared the message. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette stood up, one hand traveling to her earrings in anticipation. Chloé was looking expectantly at her like an eager puppy. “Hurry up, okay? This is my favorite part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette snorted, a giggle escaping her. “What now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé clapped. “When you transform! I’m, like, the second-ever person to see it. It’s like having personal video footage of you, except it’s live and in my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you would,” Marinette said. “Okay, then, Tikki. Come on out.” She unzipped her bag on the coffee table, and Tikki popped a last crumb of macaron into her mouth and flew out. The kwami bowed her head to Chloé, who waved enthusiastically at the little ladybug god. “It’s okay, right?” Marinette asked the kwami. Tikki closed her oversized eyes and hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is as she says. In this world, apparently, you cannot keep a secret,” Tikki said, her eyes reopening. Marinette winced. “But yes, she has seen you transform many times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.” Chloé nodded along with the ladybug. “So hurry up! The Akuma won’t de-evilise itself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. Marinette took a deep breath. Her first time transforming in this world. It would work. It had to work. No matter what world she was in, she was Ladybug, inside and out. “Tikki, spots on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One minute later, Ladybug looped her yo-yo around the nearest streetlight and soared out the window into the Paris night, Chloé shutting the window behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Akuma turned out to be Monsieur Pigeon, as dictated by the scads of pigeons that were flocking to a central point some distance away. Marinette figured he was once again calling them to...do...whatever it was that he did when Akumatized. Become one with the flock? Whatever the reason, at least it would be an easy night. In the many, many times they’d dealt with him, he never took more than the slightest effort to de-evilise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dark figure darted across the rooftop just above hers, making its way to the flock of pigeons in the distance. Ladybug sucked in a breath. Her partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was moving quickly, and she ran after, trying to catch up, but lost sight of him. “Chat Noir?” Ladybug called, making her way carefully from roof to roof. “It’s me! Ladybug!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were gone for nearly a week,” he said behind her, startling her. Ladybug whipped around. Chat Noir was hanging upside down from a rampart overhead, his expression annoyed. “Tell me how I was supposed to de-evilise the Akumas myself? I had to cataclyze all of them, since you weren’t here, and that made it take much longer than it should have gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Chaton,” Ladybug said quickly. “I was--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped right side up and landed just in front of her, his tail flicking lazily. “Chaton? That’s new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ladybug cursed herself. She’d been so used to saying it to the other Chat Noir that she’d forgotten all was not the same. And apparently, neither was her superhero partner. He was taller, his frame leaner and sharper, his face more angular and closed-off, and his eyes glowing more brightly than she remembered. Even his smile was different, sharper and whiter and just a little more hungry than usual. But he kept his distance, unlike the other Chat Noir, who hadn’t made any pretense of sticking close by Ladybug, ready to present her with a flower or a declaration of love. “It...slipped out,” she amended. “I won’t call you that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind.” Chat Noir turned his green gaze to the skyline. “But perhaps we should hurry and get rid of the Akuma. I’m rather tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone was more formal than the other Chat Noir’s, Ladybug noted. A little more tight and clipped. But it was her job to take care of the akumas, no matter how upside-down everything else was, so she hooked her yo-yo to the next roof and swung away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Monsieur Pigeon was perched on the branch of a telephone wire, a flock of other pigeons surrounding them. He was cooing to them, but as Ladybug and Chat Noir approached, he glared at them. “Must you be so bothersome? It almost makes me want to</span>
  <em>
    <span> get your Miraculouses!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He made a grab for Ladybug, but she dodged easily and went for his Akuma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pigeons flapped their wings and fluttered around Ladybug, obstructing her vision. Monsieur Pigeon again reached out, but Chat Noir, his movements so fast he was almost a black blur, snatched the Akuma and crushed it easily with a mere squeeze of his hand. Ladybug blinked--evidently, her partner was a lot stronger and faster than in the other world. The Black Cat Miraculous must be more powerful here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Monsieur Pigeon let out a wail as he detransformed, once again M. Rainier, and the pigeons flapped away with a series of chirps and coos. Ladybug, who had been kept aloft by the scad of pigeons supporting her, plunged down to the ground. Wildly, she swung her yo-yo, trying to lasso anything to keep herself from hitting the ground, but fell anyway. Chat Noir dropped the broken Akuma and blurred, and she dropped lightly into his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not usually this clumsy,” he said, almost accusingly. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug hopped out of his arms and to the ground. “I’m a little off from being out of commission, I guess. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well.” Chat Noir rubbed the back of his neck. “Just don’t keep it up. I would hate to have a partner that can’t keep up with me.” He nodded at her yo-yo. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of the Akuma?”</span>
</p><p><span>Ladybug turned, searching for the butterfly, and saw it flapping away. “Not today, little Akuma. Time to de-evilise!” Her yo-yo snapped out, catching the Akuma handily, and she released it. M. </span>Rainier stood up somewhat unsteadily and thanked Ladybug and Chat Noir for once again saving him. “Have a good night, both of you,” he said before making his way out of the park. </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be going, then,” Chat Noir told Ladybug. “Until next time, milady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Chat Noir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused momentarily, an expression of hesitation crossing his face before he shook his head slightly and stepped back. “I did miss you, you know. Next time tell me before you disappear.” Then he turned and ran, faster and faster, until Ladybug could no longer distinguish him between the blackening night sky. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and kudos mean the world-- even a keysmash will do. Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. It's Britney, I Mean Chloe, Bitch.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chloé really out here being the baddest bii in paris for NO reason</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marinette detransformed in Chloé’s room, returning to her civilian self and collapsing onto her sleeping bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how’d it go?” Chloé asked. She uncapped a bottle of mineral water and handed it to Marinette, who sat up briefly to down it in three gulps and flop back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Marinette moaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So….fine?” Chloé guessed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you call dealing with Chat Noir when he’s acting weird and distant </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>then yes, it was fine,” Marinette said, reaching for the bowl of cashews on the glass coffee table and popping a handful into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé tapped her fingers against her leg, looking thoughtful. “You were gone for a while, to be fair. He’ll get over it. He’s normally so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what? Annoying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flirty,” Chloé filled in. Marinette raised a judgemental eyebrow. “No, come on,” Chloé said. “Really! You two always had some sort of back-and-forth, like, he’d call you something cute and adorable and you’d roll your eyes and tell him to quit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That did sound more like Chat Noir. “So you think now that I’m back it’ll be okay again?” Marinette asked hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me.” Chloé waved a manicured hand dismissively in her direction. “I know everything about this kind of thing. Just try not to act so confused, like the day you woke up, or it definitely won’t change.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette smiled, relieved. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two girls, on mutual agreement, finished the movie that they’d begun before Marinette had had to leave, munching on truffles and fancy chocolates from the minibar before settling down to sleep. When Marinette finally closed her eyes, after giggling with Chloé and sending prank texts to all the boys that had asked the blonde for her number, it was with a sense of belonging. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe Tikki was right. I hope this really is my world, after all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At an ungodly hour, Chloé’s phone went off with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>BEEEEP-BEEEEP-BEEEEP </span>
  </em>
  <span>alarm that roused Marinette violently from the dream she’d been having. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It mainly consisted of she and Adrien snacking on chocolate croissants at a balcony table, but at some point,  Adrien had turned into Félix, which would have been disturbing enough on its own, but was trebly so because Félix had actually been smiling. She’d woken up right as he took her hands across the table, a grimace on her face. Ugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Urgh,” Chloé groaned, tightening her cream sleep mask over her face. “Shut that thing off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone alarm plugged on with its relentless goal of getting the two girls up. There was a soft knock on the door, and Marinette rolled over and sat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chloé? Honey, it’s time for breakfast. You girls get dressed and come to the dining room, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette didn’t recognize the voice, but she yanked on her uniform anyway, tying her tie firmly and buttoning her skirt. Chloé did likewise, although she had chosen pants rather than a skirt for the uniform, Marinette noticed as she rolled up her sleeping bag and stacked it neatly against Chloé’s in the corner of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Chloé said. “My parents hate when we’re late to breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickening her step, Marinette hastened down the hallway afrter the blonde, who had pushed open heavy double doors at the end of the row of suite doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé’s parents were sitting at a long table, spread with a spotless white tablecloth and set with four places. They smiled as Marinette and Chloé entered the room and took seats, Marinette next to Chloé while Mayor Bourgeois sat at the head of the table, Audrey Bourgeois at his right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you sleep well?” the mayor asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette nodded, speechless. She’d never really been in the same vicinity as the mayor before, and it was one thing to see him when they were battling Malediktator, but at their home for breakfast? Totally different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we did,” Chloé agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course they did,” Audrey Bourgeois said as well. “If they don’t sleep, how is my Chloé expected to look her best every day?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette winced, expecting a biting remark alongside it, but the sting was gone from Chloé’s mother’s tone. She actually seemed genuinely nice, for once, unlike when she’d been so haughty and rude all the other times they’d met in the other world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking your best is important,” she continued, “because how else will you project confidence?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Mom,” Chloé sighed. “You tell me that every day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it doesn’t get any less true,” her mother pointed out. “Now, how about some breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On cue, two women in maid uniforms with the Hotel Paris employee crest on their apron pockets materialised, holding platters of food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette found herself sitting before a plate filled with fresh fruit, hot buttered toast, pastries, and eggs, as a butler poured her orange juice into a chilled glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé was already tucking into a buttered scone spread with honey and jam, seemingly unbothered with the maids passing around food. “Well? Hurry up and eat so we can get to school on time.” She nudged Marinette with her shoulder, who picked up her fork and gingerly took a bite of cut melon, afraid to move in case she knocked something over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had just bitten into a piece of toast when Chloé’s mother spoke to her. “Marinette, how is school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette promptly choked on crumbs and took a gulp of orange juice before steadying her breath. “Fine! It’s...yeah, it’s fine. I like it. A lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smooth,” Chloé muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The winter holidays are coming up,” Audrey continued as if Marinette hadn’t just been sputtering and coughing. “And we know how much Chloé enjoys spending time with you, so how would you like to spend the holidays at our beach house in the states?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Marinette blinked, surprised. “I mean...I would love to, but I’d have to ask my parents first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly. If they give their approval, we’ll leave on the sixth,” Audrey said. “I’m sure we’ll have a lovely time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé was smiling so hard next to Marinette, she found it hard to keep from smiling as well. A beach vacation for three weeks? That would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she found herself saying. “I’ll ask my parents as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got outside, having chosen to walk to school, a light snow was falling, the flakes brushing down around them and sifting on the ground like so much powdered sugar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Chloé said. “Let’s run.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and they ran, bags bouncing against their hips and their cheeks and noses reddening as they dashed through the gently falling snow, past passersby walking dogs and rushing to work and places of business flipping signs to Open, all the way to Francoise-Dupont Academy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The teacher moved down the rows, placing papers face down on desks. “When everyone has a paper, flip yours over and begin. This test determines what score you are likely to receive on midterms, so do your best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette tried not to look anxious as the paper hit her desk; next to her, Chloé was breezily anticipatory of her failure, having never once spent longer than fifteen minutes studying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turn your papers over and begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette flipped hers over; all around her, students were doing the same, papers rustling loudly. It was a page of math problems, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew all this. Everything would be fine. Picking up her pencil, she started to write, slowly at first and then faster as she completed equation after equation, marking each answer with a neat bar and ruling a straight line underneath her work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In twenty minutes, she had finished, and she stood up, her chair pushing back with a screech. Marinette winced as heads turned her way, distracted by the sudden noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking quickly up the aisle, Marinette placed her paper on the teacher’s desk and took her seat again. Chloé was still scribbling on the second problem, her loopy scrawl taking up half the page as she tried to solve it. There was really nothing Marinette could do but fiddle with her pencils a bit and wait for everyone else to be done and the bell to ring so she could go to her next class, and she ended up with her head on her arms, her gaze moving idly around the classroom. Most of her classmates were in states of panic, trying feverishly to finish the problems before the bell rang, but one person was writing with precise unconcern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette jerked in her seat a bit as her gaze met Félix’s. He was staring straight back at her with a cool gaze. A smirk twitched his lips, and she turned away hastily, hating the fact that she had been caught staring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After class, the students filed out in various small groups, Marinette and Chloé side by side as they left. Two other girls caught up with them, and Chloé made her exit quickly--she never seemed to want to talk to anyone but Marinette. Earlier in the week, Chloé had quietly pointed out each classmate and told Marinette their name, so Marinette was pleased to note that she remembered the two girls who had stopped her. One was a Korean girl with long dark hair and long-lashed brown eyes, and the other was a girl with long blonde hair that reminded Marinette vaguely of Aurore. The blonde was named </span>
  <span>Étoile, the other named Lise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you think you did?” Étoile said breathlessly. “I know for certain I failed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you finished first, too,” Lise said with a wry smile. “If you got higher than a ninety, then I know I’ll at least get a passing grade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you did well,” Marinette reassured. “It was just lucky I knew how to do these problems, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just lucky?” Lise shook her head, her long silky hair rippling. “Sure, like it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>just lucky </span>
  </em>
  <span>you always get the highest scores on exams every year. The day you fail exams is the day you get Akumatised.”</span>
</p><p><span>She laughed, but Étoile looked worried. “What if Marinette really did get Akumatised? It would be horrible,” she said fervently. “Can you even imagine what kind of damage she might cause?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Oh, it can’t be that bad. Maybe you’d blow up the school and we’d never have to go again,” Lise suggested. Both girls waved to Marinette as they walked away, chattering and laughing. </span></p><p>
  <span>“You really are very different,” </span>
  <span>Félix said from behind her. Marinette spun around, her pigtails whacking into her cheeks as she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you know,” said Félix. “You were talking to those girls just now, were you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if I was,” Marinette said flatly. “What does it have to do with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are many things I’ve noticed about you.” Félix held up his hand, ticking off his fingers as he spoke. “One. When not speaking to me, you are extremely levelheaded and practical, and you are also very calm. Two. You think fast on your feet, and you manage difficult situations well, such as today’s math test, which you didn’t seem very prepared for at all. Three. You receive, next to me, the highest grades in the class, and your strongest areas are math and literature. Four. You can hold conversations with others naturally, without getting tripped up or stumbling over your sentences in the slightest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped, looking searchingly at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette shrugged, not entirely sure where he was going with this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you see,” he said. “It’s different now. All those things are still the same, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are different. You no longer chase after me, nor do you senselessly stutter when talking to me. And you haven’t blushed or swooned once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For good reason,” Marinette said under her breath. He hadn’t heard her, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I done something wrong?” Félix asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marinette jolted in shock, her eyes widening in surprise as she let out a shocked laugh. “Did you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That seems to be the only explanation. Because up until now, my reactions to your behavior seemed to be fine in your estimation, as you were never deterred by them. But now, you are. So what did I do wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Marinette let it out slowly. Where was she even supposed to begin with this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t entirely understand you,” said Félix. There was a wrinkle on his brow, and his head was tilted as he looked at Marinette like she was a difficult puzzle he was trying to figure out. “You’re a very confusing person, do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think so,” Marinette squeaked, trying to back away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s going to figure it out!</span>
  </em>
  <span> she panicked internally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix put his hand on the wall next to her head, stopping her from slinking sideways any further. “Nice try. But I know there’s something different about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There really isn’t,” Marinette tried, her cheeks reddening. “Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze was searching, his alexandrite-green eyes probing. “Then why don’t you blush and stutter and never manage to get a word out around me? Why do you act like you despise me, when for the last year you’ve been relentlessly trying to get my attention? What changed, Marinette?”</span>
</p><p><span>That did it. The fact that he’d called her </span><em><span>Marinette. </span></em><span>Because no one, especially not this boy, no matter how much he resembled Adrien, got to be mean, and then say her name like they were friends or even more. “Listen here, you arrogant, haughty, annoying jerk! I have had a crush on you for the last year, but that ends now!” Marinette jabbed her finger into his chest, standing on her tiptoes so she could meet his gaze. “And no-one, and I mean </span><em><span>no-one, </span></em><span>gets to act that rude to me and then have the nerve to ask me </span><em><span>what changed! </span></em><span>So you can drop it, okay?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Félix lost his composure, his cheeks reddening hard. “Excuse me?” he said, deadly calm. “I must have misheard you. Because there’s no way you would ever call me a jerk.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Believe it,” Marinette said with a tight laugh. “I can’t believe I wasted my time trying to be nice to you. Clearly, we’re never going to be friends, or anything else. Have a good day.” She whirled around and marched away, leaving him stock-still in the middle of the hallway while whispers bubbled around her and heads turned in her direction with open mouths and wide eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve been funny had she not been so irate.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Who Let The Hoe Out?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for bullying, mild physical harassment. please go carefully if you are triggered! </p><p>lila is actually the devil and we hate her so so so so much</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In her room on Friday morning, Marinette was poking through the drawers. She hadn’t had much time to look for hints about her life as this Marinette, since the winter holidays were coming up and so were midterms. All this week, even though she’d studied as much as possible in between battling Akumas and attending classes, she was still finding it hard to concentrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a fruitless search of her dresser drawers and the underneath of her printer and scanner, where not even a speck of dust was turned up, she resigned herself to flipping through the diary once again, in hopes of finding something a bit pertinent in regards to Félix or anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>October 17. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chloé and I went to London for the weekend along with her mother for a Style Queen photoshoot, and we even got to have tea in the city, the sort with scones and lemon curd and cream. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I asked Félix if he’d like to go to the movies with me, but he said no, again. Eventually I’ll wear him down, I think. He can’t possibly want to be alone all the time, otherwise he would tell me that I was genuinely bothering him. But I think he just doesn’t really get that I like him. For someone so smart, he’s kind of clueless. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>(Marinette laughed. That described Adrien to a T--he never had picked up on her </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundreds </span>
  </em>
  <span>of slips around him. But then again, she had been so insistent to just be his friend, whereas Former Marinette had been trying to make her crush clear to Félix. She kept reading.)</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’ll invite him to Chloé’s Halloween party on the thirty-first. It’ll be small, Chloé says, so maybe he’ll accept if not too many people attend. I’ve noticed he seems to avoid crowds as much as possible, which is why he spends so much time at home in his room or in the library. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this time he’ll finally say yes!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the page was filled with neatly printed opening sentences for how to best approach Félix and invite him to the party, most struck through with a neat line, but some left unmarked--maybe she had used those to work up to an invitation, after all, Marinette thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, she ate breakfast quickly, her dad pulling out trays of fresh croissants from the oven and handing her the ones with the edges just a touch too dark, the best ones, in Marinette’s opinion, because the slightly burnt edge of a croissant when it was flaky and hot and browned to a crunch….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mom, sitting opposite her, took a sip of her tea and smiled at Marinette, the kind of parental smile that meant something like ‘I’m about to bring up something you don’t want me to bring up.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette braced herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, sweetheart, how’s school?” Sabine asked. “You haven’t told us much about it all this week. Normally you’re eager to tell us how you did. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing fine! Just fine!” Marinette nodded like a bobblehead, a big smile pasted on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what about that young man you mention every now and then?” her father put in. “Félix, isn’t that right? The de Vanily boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um….” Marinette fished for something, anything to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Invite him over sometime,” her dad suggested. “Once I bring out my souffle, and you bake him some macarons, he’ll be instantly won over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom,” Marinette’s mother said gently. “I don’t think Marinette would be a big fan of that idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, why not? No boy would be able to resist my daughter, not with a face like that!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed Marinette tightly, squishing her face into his shoulder, and she groaned. “Dad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette, honey.” her mom said, with a warning eye on the clock. “You’d better run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a good day at school,” her dad called as she dashed out the door, flinging on her dark blue flats and </span>
</p><p>
  <span>pulling up her stockings (they kept slipping, the hateful things). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the girls’ bathroom a few minutes before classes began for the day, Marinette put on some lip gloss, a new kind that Chloé had apparently given her for Christmas and which had been lying on her dresser. It was a pretty peach color with a slight shine and glitter, and Marinette put it on gingerly, not sure what the rules for makeup were for a private school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette!” A sickly-sweet voice assaulted her eardrums, and Marinette winced reflexively, knowing precisely who that voice belonged to, like she had walked right out of Marinette’s nightmares. She turned, her back to the sinks, and tried to smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lila Rossi threw her arms around Marinette with a happy smile, her ponytail swinging and her eyes sparkling. “It’s so great to see you! When I heard what had happened, I was so worried, but I couldn’t see you because I was on a holiday trip to the Caribbean.” She pulled away, still beaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two girls that had been gossiping at the mirrors and tying their high ponytails even higher left the bathroom, and they were left alone, the door banging shut behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Marinette was stymied. Was Lila actually her friend in this world? “Oh. Um, that’s nice of you,” she said evasively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lila’s smile tightened for a second, her eyes narrowing. She leaned in to hug Marinette again, her hands still on Marinette’s upper arm. Her grip tightened painfully, her nails digging into Marinette’s arm. “I thought you had the good sense to leave. And here you are, back again? I told you already, get out and stay out of this school. You don’t belong here,” she hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never mind. Clearly, she hadn’t changed a bit. Marinette shoved Lila away hard. She had already dealt with this girl in the other world, been expelled from school because of her, and been forced to drop her trust in Alya because of her. There would be no repeat performance here. “Leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or you’ll what? Tell the teacher?” Lila simpered, turning her lips into a horrible mockery of a smile. “I’m the daughter of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>diplomat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you moron. They can’t touch me. Watch.” She brought her hand back, and before Marinette could jerk away, slapped her hard across the face, snapping her head to the side. “I already told you, no one cares about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her foot, she wedged the trash can by the sinks under the doorknob, holding it shut. No one would be able to open the door now, Marinette realised. She was on her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette tried to move away from her, but Lila dug her nails into her arm again, tearing the thin fabric of her shirtsleeve. When she released her arm, four crescent moons, welling up with blood, had been left behind on her arm from the force of Lila’s nails. Lila twisted her wrist hard, and Marinette cried out, tears springing to her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up, Maribrat!” Lila snapped. “I can’t stand your crying.” She made a high-pitched imitation of Marinette’s scream. “That’s what you sound like, you know. Like a pathetic child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette gritted her teeth. Lila had never openly injured her. Why was she so vicious in this world? “I told you already to leave me alone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I said, not until you leave this school,” the brunette shot back. “I’m going to make you leave, one way or another, and then like you promised, you’re never going to touch Félix again.” She slapped Marinette again, twisting her head to the side with the force of it, as the bathroom door burst open, the trash can skidding across the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullying is against the law,” someone said quietly. “I would think you of all people would know that, Lila.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lila’s mouth formed a shocked O before she burst into tears. “I-I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette stared. What was she doing?</span>
</p><p><span>“I just wanted her to leave me alone!” Lila wailed, and rubbed her wrist. “I just wanted to be friends from the beginning, but all she’s done is torment me. Is it wrong if I try to stand up for myself?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Félix rolled his eyes, his voice even chillier than normal. “Please. Your false dramatics are insulting my and her intelligence.” He held up his phone, on which there was a voice memo recorded on it. “Luckily, sound carries somewhat well if you hold your cell phone up to the doorjamb.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Lila’s tears stopped immediately. “What are you saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying it wasn’t hard to put together what you were planning when you followed Marinette down the hallway to the bathrooms,” Félix replied. “I really thought you were smarter than this.” He clicked Play, and immediately, they heard Marinette say “Leave me alone,” clearly, as though she’d been standing just next to Félix as he recorded, and then Lila saying ““Or you’ll what? Tell the teacher? I’m the daughter of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>diplomat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you moron. They can’t touch me. Watch.” The sound of a slap echoed through the bathroom again, and Félix stopped the recording. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that rather says it all. And your mother is only a junior diplomat, meaning that you can and you will face the full consequences of your actions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With effort, Lila twisted her face into a grin. “You win, then. Fine.” She left the bathroom quietly, her head held high. “But you know, I’ll still get away with it.” The door slammed shut behind her, and Marinette sank to the floor with her head in between her knees, breathing heavily and willing the tears to not come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds of silence and Marinette’s rapid breathing, Félix coughed. “I...hope you’re alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, leave me alone.” Marinette buried her face still farther into her skirt, trying to muffle her crying. Why did everything have to be so difficult and different and awful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not even going to thank me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t need your help!” Marinette lashed out. “It would’ve been fine if you’d just left me alone! It’s not a big deal, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix tightened his lips into a sharp line. “Should I have done nothing, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not any better!” Marinette snapped. “What have you done, other than make me feel bad and reject even the slightest bit of kindness?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See if I help you again, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door banged heavily behind him and Marinette burst into tears again. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kudos and comments mean the world! <br/>(drop some lie-la slander in the comments)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, yes, last chapter Marinette reacted badly and so on and so forth, but. come on guys. the girl fell into another DIMENSION. as if that wouldn't test a bitch's patience. </p><p>also. just warning you. there are no macarons in this chapter. but when there ARE--holy mother of touchstarved Just Friends interactions.</p><p>--ailie. baker of burnt macarons and angst queen, and lalie. writer of Flirty Chat Noir and Shitty Cat Puns.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was unclear how she managed to make it through the day. It might’ve helped that Chloé had decided to ditch after first period, since their class would be outside for gym, and the blonde never seemed to come on those days. As it was, she only had to fake a smile for one hour, while Chloé tapped on her phone under her desk. For some reason, she gathered that Former Marinette had never told Chloé about anything that Lila had done to her, because when </span>
  <span>Étoile told them that Lila was back from her trip, all </span>
  <span>Chloé did was sigh and roll her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure she had a lovely time posting photos from her bedroom,” Chloé huffed. “Really, she’s utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous.</span>
  </em>
  <span> How is it that everyone seems to believe her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Étoile frowned. “Lila’s so sweet, though. You shouldn’t be so mean, </span>
  <span>Chloé.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ is not telling everyone last year that I had a contagious disease and couldn’t even be spoken to,” Chloé said acidly. “If that girl had one nice bone in her body, I would burn my entire shoe collection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not entirely sure how to respond, </span>
  <span>Étoile turned away, back to her seat with Lise, and </span>
  <span>Chloé flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, superior. “Just let that lying peasant trash show up--I’ll end her if she says one more inane thing about getting tapped for Style Queen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.” Marinette nodded, trying to paste on a smile that would disguise the pounding in her temples. Her head ached, and her stomach was tied up in knots, and she kept sneaking peeks at Félix, whose gaze was steadily on the teacher, and never once strayed. He never glanced her way once, and that hurt even more. But then again, it was her fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way home, walking slowly because her stomach hurt, Marinette endured Tikki’s reproach from the bag. “Really, Marinette! You could have been a little bit nicer to Félix. He did help you, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tikki,” Marinette said miserably. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll apologise soon, but I think I need some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kwami patted her arm with a tiny hand. “That’s good. I’m proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” Marinette sighed. “It feels so awful to be this way. I couldn’t explain it away if I tried. Imagine telling Félix that I switched lives suddenly and that’s why I’ve been so mean to him when he was just trying to do the right thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be surprised,” Tikki said. “The human imagination sometimes comes up with far stranger things than what you’re experiencing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t be so bad if at least one single person was going through what I am,” Marinette told the little ladybug. “But as far as I know I’m alone. And everything is all wrong, and I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m afraid to make a mistake because I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one knows what’s going to happen next. That’s part of living.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I shouldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>be here!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marinette exclaimed.</span>
</p><p><span>A woman pushing a baby carriage down the street gave her a strange look, and Marinette smiled apologetically and rushed away before she was reported for possible insanity. “Sorry for shouting. I just am so confused, Tikki. And the worst part is, my parents think I’m okay now. What would they say if they found out that I wasn’t even their daughter?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You are their daughter,” Tikki said.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Not the one they raised, though. I might be Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but I’m not this world’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I have to find a way back, Tikki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not possible,” the kwami protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there was a reason I ended up here, then there’s a reason I can go back home.” Marinette broke into a run, Tikki ducking inside the purse as it bounced against her hip. “I just need to keep looking!” Her phone let out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ding</span>
  </em>
  <span> in her pocket, and she saw with resignation the words Akuma Alert blaring from her screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess searching will have to take a backseat,” she muttered as she ducked into an alleyway. “Tikki, spots on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This Akuma was someone she’d never seen before, unlike all the others which had been repeats of old Akumas she’d battled. He was cackling evilly as he set up a machine that somewhat resembled a bicycle pump, but had a long, sinuous black cord snaking all the way to the base of the Eiffel tower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she swung towards the tower, she heard faint screams. Two kids were dangling from the observation deck railing, supported by a thin black rope. Ladybug sucked in a breath when she realised that the rope was tangled with the cord trailing from the plug--and that there were many, many boxes of dynamite lashed to the tower legs. Enough to bring it down twice over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milady!” Chat Noir called from behind her. She turned and sighed in relief when she saw him darting towards her. “Monsieur Villain has requested the grace of our presence again, I assume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get an engraved invitation?” Ladybug moved towards the edge of the building’s rooftop she was on, holding onto the railing and craning her neck to see the villain. He had grey skin and a black bowler hat, as well as a black-and-white striped shirt. From Chat Noir’s tone, she gathered he was a frequent customer, but he looked like no Akuma she’d ever seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Chat Noir leapt across the rooftop to land next to her, looking down below. “Le Papillon never gets tired of using him, does he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug shook her head in response, unsure what to say without giving away the game. As far as she knew, Hawk Moth didn’t have any henchmen other than Mayura, but this Akuma seemed like the closest thing to a grunt that he might have. “How are we going to get his Akuma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just knock him out and start searching,” Chat Noir said. “In all the times, I can never seem to break the right thing of his. At least we know it’s not anything obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s helpful.” Her brain was ratcheting frantically now as she tried to figure out how she should best get the dynamite plug destroyed, as well as save the kids on the tower, with minimal damages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I in-fur that you have a plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, only I don’t see how we’ll get close enough to him to pull it off,” Ladybug answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave that to me. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this,” Chat Noir said, and he was about to jump when Ladybug pulled him back by the shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait. You don’t always need to be the one who puts themselves in danger so I can come last and save the day. Let’s do it together, okay, Chaton?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again with the Chaton.” His smile exposed a pointed canine, feral and slightly sharper than the Chat Noir she was accustomed to. “But coming from you, milady, I don’t mind. Together it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Measuring the distance with a glance, Ladybug roped her yo-yo around the lowest rampart of the Eiffel tower. “Ready?” She held out her hand to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As always.” Chat Noir took her outstretched hand, and she wrapped her arm around his waist. His hand brushed her upper arm, where Lila had dug in her nails earlier and made the skin turn bruise-purple and painful, and she hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, pulling away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug grabbed his arm again. “No, don’t do that. I’m fine, I just hurt my arm earlier. But it doesn’t matter now, and it won’t affect my performance. Jump on three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to hold me a little tighter,” Chat Noir said, his lips brushing against her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might just take you up on that.” Before he could respond with another witty remark, she said “One!” and leapt, Chat Noir alongside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Monsieur Villain pumped the dynamite plug faster, and as they swung towards him she could see the fuse making its steady, treacherous way towards the tower. The two boys swinging from the observation deck were screaming as wind whipped them, making the rope slide still further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They passed so close by M. Villain that Ladybug could make out the black ink spades just below his eyes and the dark blotches of dead, brackish purple tissue splattered across his arms, like he had spilled acid on his skin and it had never fully healed. Even his eyes, flat and empty, were beetle black with only the slightest shine, alight with madness. He grinned still more as the shrieks of the boys grew louder, as though their screams were a Beethoven sonata. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to have to cut this short, Chaton,” Ladybug said worriedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry, milady.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reached the apex of their swing and began to fall backwards and downwards, and Ladybug leapt away, Chat Noir still clinging onto the yo-yo. She had only a moment before gravity dragged her down, but her partner had timed it well--with a twist of her body she landed in a crouch on the tower’s rampart. Hand over hand she started to climb towards the terrified boys. “Don’t worry! I’ve got you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Below, Chat Noir had swung faster, the loss of Ladybug’s weight giving him added momentum, and he kicked the dynamite plug out of Monsieur Villain’s hands as he soared by. It skittered away and shattered against the ticket booth, and the Akumatized villain growled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just above Ladybug’s head, the boys were slipping as the rope frayed strand by strand. They screamed as it broke, but Ladybug was there, grasping the rope with both hands as all three fell. She had one chance to get this right, and one chance only. The ground was twenty feet away, and they had nearly reached terminal velocity. With effort, she let go of the rope, slamming her body against the tower’s leg. The rope’s edge fell in a U over the lowest beam, and Ladybug grabbed the cut end. The weight of her body dragged the boys forward to the top of the beam, but their weights balanced it out and they dangled, waiting for Chat Noir to finish off the Akuma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down below, M. Villain was gripping the fuse that had apparently been embedded in his wrist, about to blow it. “It doesn’t matter if your little girlfriend saved the boys--I’ll still blow all four of you sky-high!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like you should know by now--I have nine lives!” Chat Noir shot back, his baton shooting out to strike Monsieur Villain. “And by the way, Ladybug and I are just friends, unless she ever says otherwise!” He hit M. Villain square in the stomach, and he flew backwards on impact, Chat Noir already there when he hit the ground, searching for an Akuma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice try, cat, but it’ll take more than that to get me.” Monsieur Villain cackled, and that was when the fuse in his hand finally blew. Ladybug watched in horror as Chat Noir vanished in a cloud of gray, and she screamed for him. “Chaton!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the smoke dissipated, Monsieur Villain was gone, and Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen. Then she felt a hand gripping hers, and smiled. “I should’ve known you’d be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m touched. Were you truly worried about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not.” Ladybug feigned ignorance as Chat Noir lenghethened his baton and untied the boys, letting them slide to the ground one by one. The rope went slack as their weight dropped off the other end, and Ladybug dropped down. Chat Noir caught her easily under the arms and slid the rest of the way down to the ground, holding her gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, milady?” he asked as he handed her her yo-yo back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Ladybug said to reassure his worried expression. “I just wish we could’ve gotten him, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We never do, anyway.” Chat Noir shook his head, annoyed. “Le Papillon </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to pick the one henchman that always gets away after almost snatching one of our Miraculouses.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys came running over, out of breath and gasping. “Ladybug! Chat Noir!” the younger one crowed. “I knew you would come save us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir ruffled the little boy’s curls, a flash of a smile lighting his angular face. “That’s what heroes are for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” the older one told Ladybug quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. Do you need Chaton and I to get you back home?” Ladybug asked. He shook his head briefly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, we live close. August,” he called. “Let’s go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” the little one chirped, clinging onto his brother’s hand. “Bye, Chat Noir! Bye, Ladybug!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye,” Ladybug said with a wave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the two boys had trotted off in the direction of their house, she turned to Chat Noir. “I didn’t even get to use my lucky charm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise,” Chat Noir said. “I assume that means you wouldn’t be averse to staying in costume for a bit longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind if it’s you with me.” Ladybug unscrolled her yo-yo and leapt to the top of the nearest building, Chat Noir alongside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to play truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even a little bit.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*elementary school teacher voice* kudos, comments, concerns?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. L'Heure Bleue--Vrai ou Faux?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you guys like this chapter ehe we were able to put in some quality chatonxlb interaction so there's ~that~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was chilly, but Ladybug’s suit kept her warm, although her nose was cold as a thin wind kicked up, sending stray leaves skittering across the awning of the</span>
  <em>
    <span> fleurist’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>that they were sitting on the rooftop of. Chat Noir wrapped his arms around his knees, his head tipped back to see the sky as the grey-blue clouds drifted above them. It was that hour when the moon was aglow and the sky was a hazy slate-blue, and everything was washed in a faint bluish glow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>L’heure bleue, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ladybug thought. Once upon a time, she’d wanted to be sitting next to Adrien and looking up at the sky at this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now though, she wasn’t so sure. Adrien seemed a distant memory, replaced with Félix and the bite of his voice, so different from Adrien’s kind tone. But then he’d only ever seen her as a friend, and maybe that was for the best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milady, you look lost in thought,” Chat Noir broke the silence with. “Thinking about how nice it would be to kiss me, I hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug laughed. “You wish. Besides, I have lots of other things to worry about.” But underneath her mask, there were spots of pink as her thoughts did, in fact, make a momentary leap to what Chat Noir had suggested. She banished the thought, reproaching herself--</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ve not been here long enough to do anything stupid like that--</span>
  </em>
  <span>and shifted her position a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Chat Noir challenged. “What could be more trying than being a superhero?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix, for one, Ladybug thought. “Civilian things, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about them,” Chat Noir said. “I want to know what the amazing Ladybug is like as a normal person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m no one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my partner,” Chat Noir told her. “As a civilian, you would be even more perfect. So tell me about you, so that I can look for you outside of costume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chaton, no revealing your secret identity,” Ladybug reminded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting his arm around her shoulders, Chat Noir’s gaze fastened on the stars faintly shining through the bluish clouds. “I think I’d know who you were even without your telling me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug shook her head, a smile making its way across her face anyway. “I doubt that.” As Marinette, she was not the kind of person Chat Noir would think to be Ladybug. She wasn’t even brave in real life, certainly not enough to fight villains out of costume. In real life, she was plain and boring and vanilla. “In real life...I don’t even think you would look twice at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d look a thousand times your way,” Chat Noir said. “Because I’d only want to keep my eyes on you, milady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But wouldn’t you get tired of me?” Ladybug leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyelids drooping. She was tired all of a sudden, and Chat was right there, warm and safe, and his arm wrapped around her was deliciously close. “What if I turned out to be your worst nightmare? Or someone you couldn’t stand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were the person I hated most, I’d just want to try and be your friend,” Chat Noir answered. “Because being friends with you would be what I want most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are friends,” Ladybug said sleepily. “You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So let’s promise to be friends if we ever meet,” Chat Noir said. “Alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember, I’m always here for you.” Chat Noir leaned his head against hers. “So if you ever need me, I’ll be there. No matter what. Because I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug nestled deeper into the curve of his shoulder where his jaw met his throat and nodded. “I’ll remember that, Chaton.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day at school dawned sunny but crisp, a breeze blowing Marinette’s pigtails behind her as she walked to school with Chloé. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a normal day for the most part, except that she was once again avoiding Félix, but he was doing the same, so it didn’t matter too much, Except that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because she kept trying to approach him to apologise, and he kept leaving pointedly, so that she couldn’t even get a word out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly before the final period began, Marinette cornered him at the top of the stairwell a minute before the bell rang. “Félix.” Marinette exclaimed breathlessly--his legs were a lot longer than hers and she’d been struggling to catch him--”I really want to say--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t bother,” he said, clipped and chilly. “I really don’t think you mean whatever inane apology you were planning to give. You made it perfectly clear that I should stay away from you, and I am happy to accede. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Félix turned on his well-polished heel and stalked away, Marinette reaching her hand out to grab his cuff and just missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Félix!” she shouted. He didn’t look back. “Ugh!” Banging open the door of her history classroom, she found her seat in a blaze of annoyance. “I’ll get him next time,” she vowed in an undertone. Her seatmate gave her an odd look and she sank down in her seat. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way home from school, just before the street sign where she and Chloé parted ways, she for the bakery and Chloé for the hotel, Marinette discovered that her phone was nowhere to be found. “Oh, no!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Chloé was tapping briskly on her own phone, composing a text to her father. “Did your nails chip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I can’t find my phone,” Marinette wailed. “I need it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To take more photos of Félix,” Chloé cracked. “Check all your pockets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not here!” Marinette turned out her blazer pockets and her skirt pocket, turning up nothing but lint and a stray hair ribbon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find it,” Chloé said, unperturbed. “I wouldn’t worry.” She waved a cheerful goodbye to Marinette before clicking towards the hotel, her low heels just missing every puddle on the sidewalk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hefting her bag up higher, as it was weighed down with textbooks and problem sets in preparation for the upcoming midterms, Marinette hurried home to look there for her phone. Hopefully her parents wouldn’t ask any questions about it--she didn’t want to worry them any more than she already had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette?” Tikki piped from her pocket. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier, since you seemed so preoccupied with trying to apologise to Félix, but I’ve been combing through my recollections of this world, and as far as I know, you are the Guardian of the Miracle Box.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette tripped over her own two ballet flats. “You’re kidding. But I only just became the guardian a bit before we entered this world!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have been keeping the Miraculouses safe for quite some time,” Tikki said. “The Miracle Box is hidden in your room, I believe. I don’t know exactly where. But if we find it, I can talk to the other kwamis!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s hurry home,” Marinette said. “That’s two things to look for now--my phone, and the box. But if we can talk to the others, maybe we’ll get some answers finally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back home in her room, after fielding questions about school from her parents and refusing(although it pained her) a plate of tarts that her dad wanted her to try for the bakery, Marinette dug through the clothes heaped on the bottom of the closet, searching for her phone. “Tikki, have you seen it yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” the kwami chirped. She popped out of a pile of white collared shirts, one of them draped over her little body so that she resembled a ghost. “How do I look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling the shirt off her, Marinette gave Tikki a kiss on the head. “Very nice. Are you hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So hungry,” Tikki nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the night table drawer was a stash of cookies and wrapped chocolates and truffles--apparently the former Marinette had an even bigger sweet tooth than Marinette did herself, so she picked two at random and fed them to Tikki, breaking the crumbly iced shortbread into pieces small enough for the little ladybug to swallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For herself she found a gingerbread biscotti, most likely left over from the Christmas specials in the bakery. It was wrapped neatly in cling wrap, and Marinette took an experimentative bite--it tasted fine. Although she didn’t recommend keeping pastries or baked goods hidden for more than a week, her dad’s pastries never seemed to taste stale or anything less than delicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delving back into her closet after the snack break, Marinette’s foot hit the baseboard, and it creaked loudly. Curiously, she crouched down, pressing her fingers against the baseboard that met the back wall and side wall of the closet, and it moved slightly. In the place where the two walls met, there was a thin crack. Marinette wedged her fingers into the gap and pushed, and the baseboard piece that joined the back wall slid over the next one, revealing a gap in the wall just big enough for her to put her fingers through. “Tikki, look at this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing her hand upwards against the wall, Marinette gasped as a section of it slid into the crevice of the side wall, and the recess in the wall that it created revealed a little shelf, upon which was sitting the Miracle Box. “I found it,” Marinette said in a half-whisper. “I really am the Guardian in this world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki’s eyes glowed with happiness when she saw the box. “I can finally talk to the others again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Marinette lifted the box out of its hiding place, the ladybug design glowing faintly when her fingers touched it. “Let’s go ahead and open it, shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Tikki clapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Marinette keyed in the code to open it, and the box lid opened on cue, the drawers sliding out one by one to reveal the Miraculouses, in a rainbow of hues. She counted, one, two, three...They were all here, except for hers and Chat Noir’s, as well as the peacock and the butterfly. Going to her desk, where she’d left the broken peacock Miraculous, Marinette carefully slid it into its according space, reuniting it with its fellows at last. Even though Duusu was no longer here, Marinette hoped that the kwami would feel somehow that it was home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette!” came a call from downstairs. Her mother was calling her, and she sounded urgent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette sighed in slight frustration--it always seemed as though she was getting interrupted. Tikki’s eyelids drooped in disappointment as she realised that they wouldn’t get to contact the other kwamis inside the Miracle Box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to talk to the others,” she said sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still can,” Marinette assured her. “Just go ahead in--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey!” her mother called. “Can you come downstairs for a bit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just head inside the Miracle Box and talk to the others, and I’ll open it when I come back up,” Marinette said hurriedly. “See if you can ask the others if they know anything about why we switched worlds, alright?” She checked the drawer painted in pale blue and white--she had miscounted. Bunnyx’s timepiece, the Rabbit Miraculous, was gone. “Ah, so she must be in this world,” Marinette said to herself. “It would’ve been nice if we could find Alix and Fluff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki zipped into the box, too anxious to wait any longer. “I’ll be here when you need me, Marinette. Just open it up and get me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming, Mom! One second!” Marinette yelled back to her mother, slamming the lid back on the Miracle Box like she’d just received an electric shock. “Tikki!” she hissed. “Can you just stay in the box for a bit? I have to hide it in my closet but I’ll come and get you out when I’m done talking to my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki’s voice came through like she was right next to Marinette. “No problem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” Marinette shoved the box into her closet, yanking skirts off hangers and throwing shoes into it at random, heaping clothes haphazardly over top of it until not a single trace of black-and-red design was visible. Then she threw open her bedroom door and banged down the stairs to the living room, calling “I’m coming now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mom and dad were in the living room, with their arms around a model-tall girl with glossy dark hair and a pink jumper over black jeans/ Her glittery high-tops caught Marinette’s aspiring-fashion-designer gaze first thing, as did her face, with wide blue eyes and faint freckles spattered like paint droplets across her nose and cheekbones. Marinette could’ve sworn she was looking into a mirror, almost. Then she stopped in the entrance to the living room, confused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait. Who is this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette! Come give me a hug,” the girl exclaimed, pulling away from Marinette’s parents to rush over to her. I missed you tons!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>trying to write 2000 words of fic so we can post the next chapter and keep my promise to update every weekday while simultaneously trying to pay attention to zoom classes and not fail classes</p><p>Parkour!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. new number who dis bish?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. after so long. my cutie. my fave. she's here. and we will possibly be adding an update to the univers pv series with a one-shot on *her*<br/>--ailie</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As the girl threw her arms around her, Marinette rearranged her puzzlement into a blank smile and hugged her back, trying not to be too stiff. Clearly, this girl knew her well, and judging from her looks, which were much the same as Marinette’s, a  toss-up between her mother and father, she must be a family member. Which left only one option, really. Marinette had an older sister?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl released her and held her shoulders, taking a good look at Marinette, who seized this opportunity to get a long glance at her as well. Her sister had elbow-length dark hair, the long side bangs that would normally have fallen over her left ear held back with a sparkly clip, and a metallic bag hung from her shoulder, clinking with at least a dozen charms and pins and tiny dolls as ornamentation. She looked to be in her late teens, or early twenties, Marinette wasn’t sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bridgette, sweetheart, why don’t you take your bags up to your room,” her mother said, smiling fondly. “Then we’ll eat a bit early if you’d like, so you and Marinette can catch up after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go get started on dinner now,” their father added. He headed into the kitchen, Marinette’s mother following behind, leaving the two girls alone. Bridgette stooped to pick up two pink suitcases stenciled with anime designs on the sides, hefting them easily in each hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Mari,” she said. “You have to tell me all about Françoise-Dupont, and if you ever managed to get that boy you called me about so much, and if there are any cute boys or girls there, or…” Her voice receded as she made it farther up the stairs, and Marinette followed quickly so she didn’t miss any of what Bridgette was asking her about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the top of the stairs, Marinette followed Bridgette past the door to her room, past the bathroom door that adjoined her bedroom, and to a small door that had gone unnoticed by her for the past week, painted white. Really, it was strange that she hadn’t noticed it sooner. It felt as though puzzle pieces that she couldn’t see were falling into place around her, filling in more details about her life here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning the doorknob, Bridgette went into her bedroom, throwing her suitcases onto the bed with ease. Marinette blinked in surprise--this room was almost exactly what her bedroom in the other world looked like, except Adrien’s face was nowhere to be seen, and the color scheme seemed to be blue. There were all shades, from the cerulean bedspread to the sky blue walls and agate rug on the floor with threads of indigo running throughout. Bridgette’s walls were entirely covered in pages torn from magazines and drawings from colored pencils and markers and paints, landscapes and fantasy worlds and most prevalent, superheroes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s heart gave a stutter as she saw a tagboard sketch of herself and Chat Noir dueling Monsieur Villain. In the drawing, she was leaping down from above, her leg outstretched to strike him in the head, while Chat Noir was springing forward to attack from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just above the headboard heaped with cadet-blue pillows was a tiny miniature of Bunnyx, painted so that her face was blurred and her features weren’t very distinguishable. “When did you draw that?” Marinette asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ages ago,” Bridgette said. “You remember. When we saw her at the park fighting that villain, the one who could speed up time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you blur her face?” Marinette asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that bad?” Bridgette peered closer at her painting. “I thought I captured her features okay. Maybe I should redo it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no!” Marinette waved her hand to stop her sister from taking it down. “I wasn’t really looking hard at it, but it looks really good. Don’t redo it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, baby sister.” Bridgette kicked off her sparkly sneakers, and they hit the opposite wall with a thump. She passed by Marinette, ruffling her hair, and started out the door. “Let’s go help with dinner, okay? And then we can talk all night long, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Marinette agreed with a smile. But just before leaving she checked the miniature again. Bunnyx’s features were still blurred and distorted, but Marinette could just make out her mouth, but she wasn’t smiling. It was twisted, anxious. Almost like she was fearful of something. But that couldn’t be right. Bunnyx wasn’t afraid of anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, their dad was just pulling a glass baking dish out of the oven. Roast chicken with sundried tomatoes and a cream sauce-- Marinette’s favorite meal. Judging from the way Bridgette was hovering nearby as well, she guessed it was one of her sister’s favorites as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing a handful of forks and knives, Marinette set them around the table that was already covered with a tablecloth and placed with plates and napkins and glasses. Her mother brought a basket of crusty rolls to the table, keeping them a safe distance from Marinette’s seat, otherwise, Marinette would finish the bread basket off in half a minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a few more minutes, all four of them were seated around the table, Bridgette telling them all about her art school and how nice her American friends were. “And they get coffee at least three times a day, and their drinks are eleven dollars for just one cup, sometimes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette couldn’t imagine spending that much for just a cup of coffee with whipped cream and syrup--she could get one of those for two euros at the cafe opposite the bakery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like the States that much?” their mom asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get too comfortable there, honey. We still want you to settle down back here,” their dad put in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if my only purpose is to live in Paris for the rest of my life nearby you guys, then I might as well travel while I can,” Bridgette said. “I’m taking a trip to Italy and then to Greece afterwards over the summer with a group of friends.” She turned to Marinette, then. “You’ve been quiet, Mari. Want to go to Italy with me? We’ll be as touristy and flighty as we can for the whole summer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather stay here,” Marinette said. “I like Paris better than anywhere else in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for you.” Her dad beamed proudly. “At least one of my daughters won’t leave me all alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that the conversation turned to the bakery, and then again to Bridgette, and afterwards Marinette and Bridgette made their way upstairs after washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Their parents retired to the living room to take a break before they would have to begin preparing for tomorrow’s day of work in the bakery, and the house grew dimmer as the sun melted below the horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upstairs in Marinette’s room, while Marinette turned on the overhead light and the lamp on the desk, Bridgette plunked herself down on Marinette’s bed with a creak of bedsprings and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoomph </span>
  </em>
  <span>as she fell backwards onto the pillows. “You haven’t called in forever! I thought you’d forgotten about me, all the way in New York. It’s a sad world when your baby sister won’t even call you to ask how university is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it?” Marinette asked, to distract her sister from the fact that she hadn’t called because until barely three hours ago she hadn’t even known she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>a sister. “New York, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So </span>
  <em>
    <span>crowded!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bridgette threw her arms out wide to illustrate the masses of people. “I can hardly take a walk outside of campus without being trampled. Everyone’s going somewhere, doing something, rushing around all day. At least here in Paris, the pedestrians are polite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you like it, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it, but it’s not home.” Bridgette picked up a pillow and flung it at Marinette offhandedly. “Besides, whenever I talk to my friends and they ask about Paris, and how it is with crime, they always laugh when I answer. Apparently since American superheroes don’t have to deal with half the things that Ladybug and Chat Noir do, they only show up for very important things. Not like ours at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was Ladybug, Marinette had to agree. “Well, it’s different there, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I never have to worry about getting Akumatized!” Bridgette laughed. “Do you remember when you were six and you spilled paint all over the lace skirt I’d just bought? And to stop me from getting upset, Mom promised me all the cookies I wanted that night, and the butterfly just flapped away? I wonder what kind of Akuma I’d have been. Not a very good one, considering I was only nine, so what revenge would I even need to get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Marinette nodded along, and then a strange thing happened. As Bridgette reminded her of the skirt incident, Marinette s</span>
  <em>
    <span>aw </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. The memory expanded in her mind, coming to the forefront of her consciousness like it had been there all along, although she could not have experienced it, as she’d not spent her childhood here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all the same she remembered it--her six-year-old self, in pigtails tied with pink ribbons, happily applying paint to Bridgette’s pretty white skirt that she’d pulled from the wrapping-papered shopping bag. It had looked so nice to Marinette, decorated with streaks of sky blue and sunshine yellow and raspberry pink. But Bridgette had ripped the skirt out of her hands and started to scream and stamp her feet, causing their mother to rush in and break up the dispute-- “I remember,” she said, almost in wonderment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How do I remember?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This was new. The memory coming back to her, but it felt as part of her as her fingers and toes did. Like she’d merely forgotten about the event for a little while, but Bridgette had caused her to remember it perfectly. And with it...Marinette felt a sudden ache in her temples, and she winced imperceptibly. Something felt as though it had cracked, the floodgates opening and a wash of memories spilling out. She remembered all of it now. Her entire life in this world, side by side with her memories of the other world. Her life as Marinette here, sisters with Bridgette and best friends with Chloé, living her life in near-constant happiness, as Ladybug also. Almost as if she had been living two lives at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you remember that, considering I almost killed you then,” Bridgette said with a laugh. “But I think we get along much better now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do,” Marinette agreed, pushing aside the flow of memories. She’d deal with this later. For now, she just wanted to talk with her sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I get to ask you all about how you are.” Bridgette flipped onto her stomach, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “How is His Royal Highness Félix Graham de Vanily? Does he still act like he’s some degree of nobility?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette had to giggle, although she felt bad a moment later. “I never thought he was that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you think he’s that bad now! You finally admitted it!” Bridgette pointed an accusatory finger at Marinette. “Now you can finally stop mooning over him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not exactly.” Marinette turned her head away, embarrassed. “I kind of. You know. Yelled at him? And I have yet to apologise…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what are you waiting for?” Bridgette exclaimed. “The longer you wait, the less meaningful it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” Marinette wailed. “But he keeps avoiding me or cutting me off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then there’s only one thing to do.” Bridgette rubbed her hands together, evil genius-esque. “Break into his house, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>forcibly apologise!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not breaking into Félix’s house!” Marinette said, aghast. “Besides, wouldn’t there be security systems all over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridgette wilted. “You’re right.” Then she brightened again, just as suddenly. “I’ve got it! You just go knock on the door, invite yourself in, apologise, and make a run for it. He can’t reject it then!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That...seems faulty.” But Marinette had to agree that it did sound a lot better than just never apologising and being treated with cold silence by him for the rest of her natural life. Plus, she was still thinking about what Chat Noir had said the night before last. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you were the person I hated most, I’d just want to try and be your friend. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She could apply that logic to Félix, couldn’t she? Maybe they could be friends. If he had a friend, perhaps he wouldn’t be so chilly to everyone. And just maybe, he could forgive her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should at least try.” Bridgette looked expectantly at Marinette for her answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette nodded her head firmly. “You’re right. I will try.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>for everyone who’s too lazy to do the math, Bridgette is twenty, and Marinette is seventeen. Félix is a few months younger than Marinette in this one, as she’s aged up a year (because Thomas Astruc said that in season 4 she and Adrien would be 16 and Felix would be 18)</p><p>kudos, as always, are appreciated. and i know we said no weekend updates, but as a treat, something very very big is coming tomorrow.<br/>--lalie</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Felix Chapter Dix</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>celebration for 25K words and 100 kudos! <br/>A double chapter for our lovely readers--4K from Félix's perspective.<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As per his schedule, the first thing that Félix did when he got home from school at precisely 4:40 was homework. History first, then mathematics, and then literature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he wrote down careful notes on plagues throughout history, he found his thoughts wandering in a well-travelled direction. To Ladybug, as usual. It wasn’t every day the girl of your dreams was a superhero that never seemed to want to be anything other than friends. But he also couldn’t help liking her. Even more so in recent days, because something about her was changed. His old feelings, of obsessive affection, he was embarrassed to admit, had changed into something a little different. Instead of wanting to push his feelings onto her, he only wanted to learn of hers, to give her a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks reddened faintly at the imagined possibility that he could hold her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With effort, he forced his thoughts away from Ladybug, from holding her hand or hugging her, or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>God prevent him from doing something so foolish, </span>
  </em>
  <span>kissing her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette came to mind instead. He could not stop reminding himself of how she’d yelled at him when he’d made that recording of Lila’s actions. It was painful to remember, but it was like touching a bruise--he couldn’t help but do it. At the time, he had been frantic. How could he stop this from happening? But he’d been too slow, and Lila had gotten there too fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced, remembering the drop in his stomach when he heard the sickening sound of a slap landing on skin, and the resulting cry. But he’d done something, and hopefully it was enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was more to it than just plain old heroism, though. It hadn’t been the Chat Noir in him coming to the rescue--it’d been curiosity. Marinette had been so different ever since she’d stopped having feelings for him, and he had wanted to see how she approached this situation with Lila. And yes, some part of him had wanted her to thank him. Because there would always be a little bit of him that wanted Marinette to keep liking him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of that now, his lips twitched into a smirk. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see if he could somehow get Marinette to have feelings for him again? It would make his routine perfect again. For the last year, his life had been orderly. He got to school, Marinette accosted him, he shook her off, and she repeated it. It had been an interesting break in the monotony. But now, it was boring again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truth be told, he’d never really understood love, or feelings for someone. As a child he’d seen plenty of examples of it, but he’d never really understood it at all. It had been alien, strange. So to see Marinette’s reactions to him had, for a time, been purely scientific. An experiment of the heart, to see if he could someday feel those things as well. He’d searched for books on the subject, and when no scientific studies presented themselves, had delved into romance novels. Those had been informative, certainly, but did not add any personal insight. So he was resigned to researching on his own, and had nearly felt it for himself when he and Ladybug had partnered up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been the wrong kind, though. There were different types of love, and his did not fit into any of the right ones. The type of love that was obsessive and possessive--that was all wrong. So he’d forced it down, and had eventually gotten rid of the controlling mindset. It was as simple as flicking a switch. On, off, no more feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a month, at least. Until two weeks ago, it had been fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to find out what this new development was so he could get rid of it. If Marinette was a factor, then he would remove the factor. If Ladybug was the independent variable, then he would change it. But he wasn’t sure what he felt at all, for either girl. Anyway, no one was allowed to get close to him, lest they suffer his curse of eternal bad luck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plagg!” Félix pulled the books off of his head, the others that had landed on his shoulders falling to the carpet of the library with dull thuds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” the kwami said, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought maybe there was some Camembert in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would there be--never mind,” Félix sighed, deciding not to bother. “Help me put these away, would you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks,” Plagg said, diving in between two books. “Your hands aren’t broken, are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I prefer to let the person, or thing, who created the mess, clean it up,” Félix told him, but all the same he picked up the books and put them in their respective places. “Be careful, okay? Some of these books are very old.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But unlike cheese, they sure don’t taste good aged,” Plagg muttered. “Have you got any Camembert?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Of course not,” said Félix, pulling a cube of it out of his pocket. “Why would I ever remember to buy you any?” He tossed it to the kwami, who swallowed it in one gulp, the cheese travelling down his little throat into his stomach. </span></p><p>
  <span>Plagg hiccupped. “Now that’s good cheese. Something to remember, actually. When all is said and done, cheese is constant, never-changing perfection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be sure to make a note of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make fun of me,” Plagg complained. Félix patted his small head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, as it did whenever his attention strayed, Félix found himself turning the heavy silver ring on his finger around, twisting it around his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t mess with it too much,” Plagg said warningly. “You already got it stuck one time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was no need to remind me. I know.” Félix kept turning it though--he couldn’t help it. It was as if his reminder of ever-present bad luck had incarnated as this ring, and the irony of it was that he could not take it off. Not even if he wanted to. The holder of the Black Cat Miraculous, while given powers beyond human reach, was also the only Miraculous to come with the stigma of ill fortune. For centuries, the holders had been cursed with bad luck, and still it was passed down through generations. Félix’s bad luck had begun the day he was given the ring, and he could never end it. Or he had tried, once. It hadn’t worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day he was given the ring, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Félix! Where are you, sweetheart?” his mother had called. Then she’d seen him, high up in the tree outside their little house just outside of Paris. “Come down a moment. I have something to tell you, something special.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hastily he’d clambered down. “Coming, Mother!” Only nine then, he’d thought the world of her. Of his parents, who’d loved him more than words could describe. He’d been happy then, safe in his world with them. “Is it something I’ll like?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think you’ll love it.” His mother had swung him high in the air, snuggling him tight afterwards. “Your grandfather wants us to come for a visit. My little Félix will finally get to meet him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not little,” he’d complained. She’d ruffled his hair with a fond smile.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, of course not. Now go put on a clean outfit, and we’ll go visit for the day. Run, go on.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’d pulled up in the car to his grandfather’s house, and Félix had stared up at the massive building. “Is he rich?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Very much so,” his mother had said. “But remember, be as good as you can to him. He’s been alone for a few years.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay!” Félix had trotted inside, brimming with anticipation and good cheer. His grandfather would be nice, he knew. Someone who could play catch with him and have fun. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How wrong he was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, goodness,” Emilie had said. Félix had been waiting outside the parlor as his parents had tea with his grandfather. He didn’t know why, but he’d not been allowed in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It sounded as though she’d spilled the tea, though, from his father’s reassuring and her dabbing at her dress--he could hear the rustle of fabric. “I’ll need to run to the store and get something before it stains.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I have a call to take,” his grandfather had said. “Why not send your husband and son, and come up to look at your mother’s things. You can decide what you want to keep.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, okay,” Emilie had agreed. “Darling, can you wait a moment?” she’d asked Félix’s father. “I’ll be right there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was when Félix had found the box. Bored, he’d wandered away, and in a dusty bedroom hung with white cloths over the furniture to protect it from sunlight, he’d at random opened up a little door that had caught his eye. It was just the right size, if he got on his hands and knees, to crawl through, and through it was a tiny room, with a dusty brown box hidden by shadows. Stuffing the box in his pocket and closing the door and locking it, Félix had kept exploring. In the next room, he’d opened the box, and when he saw the silver ring it contained, his immediate thought was to put it on. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He did so, and that was when a brilliant flash of light shone in his eyes. He cried out, and when he opened his eyes, there was a creature bobbing in midair in front of his face. A tiny, catlike creature, with oversized green eyes and a fanged smile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Félix spoke with Plagg for a few minutes, and then telling him to hide, ran to show his mother of this amazing discovery. But more time than he’d thought had passed by, and his mother and father had gone to the car, believing him to be with his grandfather. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He still didn’t know why his mother had gone to the car. Shouldn’t she have gone upstairs to look at her mother’s things? But she had gone all the same. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Félix still remembered bumping into his grandfather, and sitting down hard on the ground with a laugh, finding the humor in their sudden collision. But when he looked up, there was only shock, and something indecipherable in his grandfather’s chilly expression. “Where is your mother?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think she went to the store with Father really quick,” Félix said. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was when his grandfather had begun to walk quickly, calling “Emilie?” through the hallways. Félix chased him, confused.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was the matter?  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They made it to the front door, outside the long drive and the street going by. No Emilie. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was when they heard the crash. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plagg sighed. “You should stop dwelling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not dwelling,” Félix said. A lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was. If I’d never put that ring on, the bad luck would never have affected me. They wouldn’t have gotten killed because of me.” Félix lapsed into silence, and Plagg did not interrupt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone cleared their throat pointedly, and he turned quickly, Plagg diving into his pocket. It was his grandfather’s secretary, blank-faced and standing at the door, holding her ever-present tablet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nathalie.” Félix did not bother saying hello, as the briskly efficient assistant would not have returned the sentiment, being given to the school of thought that such formalities wasted precious time better spent working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is time for your weekly meal with your grandfather. Please make your way to the dining room,” she said without preamble, and click-clacked away, her heels tapping against the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waiting any longer was pointless, and his grandfather detested tardiness, so playing the waiting game would only result in the according consequences. He went down to dinner, smoothing the wrinkles from his school uniform and readjusting his tie and collar until it was just shy of chokingly tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining room was a dark and grim affair, with a long oak table covered by a spotless tablecloth and set with only two places, though the table fit eighteen easily. Heavy maroon drapes covered the large windows at either end of the room, blocking out the early evening light and making the room dim as a tomb. The only light came from the chandelier overhead, a ridiculously overdone thing of dripping crystal and sparkling diamond chips, ornamented by candles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix took a seat in the high-backed chair two down from his grandfather, who sat where he always sat at the head of the table, unsmiling. A long time ago it had made him sad to think of his mother growing up here, but his nanny had assured him that Emilie had had a very happy childhood. Once, his grandfather had been kind. Once, there had been a little girl with two blonde braids tied with brightly-colored ribbons, swinging her legs under the table and chattering away to her father, who’d sat at the head of the table as he always did. She would have eaten only what she liked, and gotten away with it too, because Emilie was the one thing that kept the estate on its feet, up and running after the little girl that had been happy here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no use dwelling on a past he couldn’t even remember, as he wasn’t there then, though, thought Félix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steak was served, done medium rare and dripping with juices, on a polished silver platter by a silent maid, a young woman in her late twenties named Emma (the only employee whose name he knew definitely) who held the platter for his grandfather to serve himself, and then brought it to Félix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took only one piece--he was not hungry in the least. Being in the same room as his grandfather’s cold, terrifyingly ominous aura had always taken away his appetite quickly. After he’d taken his portion, Emma backed away, replaced by another bearing a dish of potatoes, mashed with butter, which she placed a scoop on his plate, as the first entered with a bowl of fresh peas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The maid served him quickly and then removed the plate, scuttling back into the kitchen. It was no secret that every employee here was terrified of his grandfather, and as a byproduct they treated Félix much more deferentially than he deserved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a bite of steak and swallowed in a measured fashion, having had table manners drilled into him long before it should have been an issue. Occasionally he still winced, remembering the year he’d just turned ten and his grandfather had first taken guardianship of him. That year, he’d been hit many times, before he learned to walk quietly and live quieter, trying to do nothing that would anger his grandfather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been reminded, over and over, that he deserved nothing of which he was given. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had it much harsher than you,” his grandfather would say. “This is a light punishment compared to how it was for me.” Then Félix would find himself clutching his reddened cheek, on the floor once again, trying to hold back tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that had been seven years before. He was not so weak now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resentment had made him like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fork clinked on the china plate, louder than he had intended, and he set it down quickly before turning his eyes down to the table to avoid his grandfather’s gaze. Unfortunately, Félix had gotten his attention, and he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing well in school.” It wasn’t a question, nor something intended to provoke him into any sort of replying speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix nodded. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nathalie has sent you a revised schedule for this week. On Friday the fifth, I will be hosting a charity ball in order to raise funds for some organisation or other. You will attend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With a partner?” Félix inquired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” His grandfather applied himself to his steak once more, cutting pieces and bringing them to his mouth. After touching his napkin to both sides of his mouth, he stood. “I will be going to K Fund’s office building to look over their reports. Go to bed at an appropriate time. Nathalie will be available if you have any requests, and she will contact me accordingly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I expect you back so we could play a game of chess later this evening?” Félix asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nathalie will be here if you have any concerns.” His grandfather left the dining room, the heavy oak door closing behind him. Félix was alone, his meal half-uneaten. No longer hungry, he pushed back his chair and stood, tossing his napkin to the table and leaving the room as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The music room was at the far end of the house, where his grandfather did not enter. Ever. This place, Félix knew, held too many ghosts. But ghosts made good companions for a boy with no one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed open the door and crossed the room to the windows. It was very dark in the room, the windows covered by heavy gray-blue draperies. These he pulled aside, letting in the evening light as the sun faded to burnt orange and the sky streaked lavender and grey. A thin beam of light cut across the marble floor, illuminating a stripe of the piano standing to one side of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the piano bench lid,  Félix chose from the stack of music a random book. He’d played all of these at one time once, and before him his mother had. Beethoven, he ended up with. A collection of his sonatas. </span>
</p><p><span> Félix pulled out the piano bench, the polished wood only letting out a small scrape as he moved it back across the marble floor, and sat down, propping the sheet music on the stand and opening it to a random page. </span><span><br/></span> <span>Before beginning the sonata though, he went through a few routine exercises, the songs all familiar enough that he’d memorized them long ago and now served for warm-ups. He’d not played in a few weeks, his grandfather having not left the house for quite some time, and so he was unsteady, his fingers slipping and hitting a wrong key once. </span></p><p>
  <span>Deciding he’d done enough practise, his attention turned to the sheet music awaiting his performance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 8. His mother had played this often when he was younger, beckoning him over to sit beside her on the bench. “Come here, Félix. This is C minor, the first movement. See how it sounds like an introduction to a story?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He played it now, a slow introduction to whatever story came after. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly, solemnly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his mother had taught him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Play it like you’re strolling down a dusky street, and the lamps are low.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To finish the section, return to the beginning, the allegro, and play in G minor until the recapitulation begins, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mother had said. His fingers, slow at first, quickened, and he slowed down reluctantly, to begin the outlining of the piece. It picked him up and swept him away, to where he wasn’t alone in this great house, to a place where he could walk down an arbored pathway in a garden decorated with cherry trees and butterflies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This place he walked often. No one was ever here except for him, because there was no one he was close to that he could meet here. He could not be close to anyone. For a time, he’d been bitter about this fact, wondering why he was the possessor of such bad luck that no one could even be close to him without suffering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Often his grandfather had reminded him that he was not to let anyone get too close to him. “You don’t wish for them to suffer the same fate as your parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he’d replied automatically, because it was what was expected of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But sometimes he wished that such a person existed that could not be harmed by bad luck. Somewhere in the depths of the second theme, G minor, there was a knock on the door of the music room, and an aproned maid in a gray uniform dress entered. “Master Félix, there is someone to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood as she entered, puzzled. His immediate thought was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grandfather, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but then he remembered that his grandfather could not have bothered to spare any time for him. “Tell them to leave, I’m busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Félix?” Marinette had entered the room, pushing past the maid without even waiting to be brought in, had Félix accepted her intrusion. “I-” Her eyes fell on the piano. “That was you playing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Félix gritted, “it was. And I would like it if you could leave. Immediately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s face fell, but not for long. Placing her hands on her hips, she met his gaze with a steely determination that he might have appreciated had he not been so irked. “I’m not leaving until you give me a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhaling, Félix sank onto his piano bench with a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “A chance? What on Earth would you need a chance to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To apologise,” Marinette said stubbornly. </span>
</p><p><span> Félix let out an amused snort, although the last thing he was was amused. “Apologise for what? So rudely rebutting my attempt to be kind and do the right thing?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Yes, that’s exactly it.” As usual, she had completely missed the sarcasm in his tone. Or maybe he just wasn’t presenting it the correct way. “I really feel bad for what I said, and I thought that--”</span></p><p>
  <span>“You thought what?” Félix’s temper had reached a boiling point. She couldn’t be in this house one second longer. “You thought by barging in and invading my privacy it would somehow be okay for you to say you were sorry then? You thought one simple ‘I’m sorry’ would be enough to make everything alright again? What you don’t understand is that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t want you around me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t want you bothering me at all hours of the day, and night as well. I don’t want you in my life. Because whatever misguided affection is making you think that you need to go to such extents to make me so angry is not something I want at all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And furthermore,” Félix went on, uncaring how heartless it made him sound,“I don’t want to see or speak to you again.” He needed her to leave now, before anything happened to her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave, get out of this house, why can’t you understand that I need you to leave? Clueless idiot, leave!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well--well--” Marinette sputtered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Félix mocked. She hadn’t budged from her spot in the middle of the room, but her eyes were teary. Good. Hopefully she would turn and run now. Out of this house, as far away from him as she could get. “What? No response?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t give up on you,” Marinette said, shockingly. Félix’s jaw almost dropped, but he’d been conditioned for this, and as such remained impassive. “I won’t,” she went on. “I still want to be your friend, no matter what. So I’ll keep on trying, no matter how much you reject it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave,” Félix said instead of giving in like he wanted to. To shake her hand and say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you win, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Let’s be friends like we both wanted to be. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I told you to leave. Don’t come back here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t count on that,” Marinette told him, and left the room with her head held high, past the open-mouthed maid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not require your presence,” Félix snapped, and the maid instantly scurried away, eyes to the ground. He turned back to the piano, but his enthusiasm had dulled--he no longer wished to play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyed, he slapped the sheet music to the ground. This should not have bothered him anywhere near as much as it did. Picking up a vase of flowers from an end table, he threw it as hard as he could. It hit the wall next to the piano and shattered, painted shards of porcelain flying everywhere and the orchids dropping to the ground, limp and pathetic. Rivulets of water ran down the wall, and he still wasn’t satisfied. “Damn it!” He picked up a bone china plate and threw that too, smashing it to bits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You should have accepted her, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his thoughts taunted him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t want to be alone any longer, do you? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” he screamed, and smashed another vase in his rage. “I don’t care about her! Or anyone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But you do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the noise he was making, the crashes and shatters and rage-filled shouts, Nathalie did not come. Nor did any maids. Panting and still furious, he dropped to his knees on the floor, his hands slamming into the marble tiles. Shards of glass and china cut into his palms as he tried to pick up the broken vases and ornaments, his hands shaking. Streams of blood ran down his wrists and fingers until the shards slipped out of his hands, covered in blood every time he managed to close his fingers round a piece. But he kept trying, and the blood eventually dried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> If he could have cried, he would have sobbed. Screamed and wailed and taken out the misery of being alone like this not on inanimate objects, but let it all pour out with the tears. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope yall liked the angst because writing that made me want to punch a wall like a 15yo white boy.<br/>--lalie</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. in which an akuma does more to advance their relationship than they ever would themselves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AND WE'RE BACK! <br/>regular updates every day of this week. happy monday bitches i know you're thirsty for this fic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When the next Akuma came, it just had to be during the school day. Marinette was sans Chloé in her chemistry class, filling out the lab work for that day’s lesson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her backpack was a small wrapped box that she’d tied with a thin green ribbon that had a sweet in it. Marinette had been up late last night, as all day at school Félix had ignored her. Just before Bridgette had left to go back to New York, she had offered the suggestion that Marinette bring a peace offering for her next apology attempt. Remembering the macarons she had painstakingly baked every Sunday for Adrien, Marinette had decided that it might go over somewhat better if she made Félix a macaron. But not passionfruit. That would only serve as an uncomfortable reminder of her failed first love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead, she’d made a raspberry ganache and dark chocolate macaron, bitter and sweet and tart at the same time. The perfecr thing for Félix, she hoped. Macarons made everything better, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang as something shattered at the opposite end of the school, and screams rang out. At the same fh, everyone with their phones on pulled them out--the screens were buzzing madly with an Akuma alert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps pounded and there were more shouts outside. A terrified senior girl banged open the classroom door. “There’s an Akuma in the school! You all have to run!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More screams went up as students leapt up from their seats, papers and textbooks forgotten. Marinette jumped up from her seat, her phone vibrating loudly in her hand. Her heart was pounding. Not once in the last three weeks had there been an Akuma during the day. Judging from the reactions of everyone else, this was a rare occurrence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Form a line and exit the school in an orderly fashion!” the chemistry teacher directed. “Quickly and quietly, everyone!” No one was paying attention to him--students were stampeding out the door and screaming, and Marinette was swept up in the crush. Shorter than most of the other students, she found herself shunted through the crowd by elbows and shoulders, until she was slammed against a wall and two boys pushed by her so hard, she hit her head against the wall and saw stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette!” someone yelled. For a moment, she swore it was Félix, but then she figured it had only been her imagination. As she tried to stand, she was again pushed back down by the students, fleeing in terror from the beams of light freezing people where they stood and sealing them into walls of light from which no trace of them was visible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The villain giggled in high-pitched glee and prowled after a group of students backing away down the hallway. “Have any of you seen Eunhae?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no!” one of the girls stuttered. “Please--please leave us alone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s no good.” The Akumatized girl shook her head in mock sadness. “How would you all like to know precisely what your friends think of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls exchanged wary glances, suddenly on edge. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dizzy and her head pounding, Marinette tried to stand. Ladybug needed to be here, not her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s simple!” The villain clapped. “I put you in time-out for a little bit, and if you want to get out, you must reveal exactly what you think about everyone else in there. Sound fun? Good! Let’s get started.” She placed the flats of her palms together, and light glowed in a halo around her hands. Pulling her hands apart, she widened the bubble, and with a giggle tossed it at the cowering group of girls. “Have fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls screamed as the light enveloped them, and they vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-stop it!” Marinette bit out, making her way towards the villain. The Akumatized girl turned towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A new contender? What a shame, you haven’t got any friends with you. I guess I’ll just freeze you for now.” She aimed her beam at Marinette, who froze like a deer in headlights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it came rushing towards her, she closed her eyes, only to feel someone grab her around the waist and snatch her away. Wind rushed by, and she kept her eyes shut tight, feeling the world tilt under her feet as whoever it was that had snatched her ran. “That was stupid of you!” they chastised. Marinette opened her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chat Noir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should let me handle the villain. Why didn’t you just run?” He deposited her in an empty classroom, setting her down in a chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to help,” Marinette said limply. How was she supposed to explain herself without giving it away that she was Ladybug? Luckily, Chat Noir didn’t seem too interested in any explanations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time worry about yourself, okay? You don’t have any superpowers, and I’d hate to see you get hurt. Stay here until the Akuma is gone.” He was gone in a flash, faster than she would have thought possible if he had not just snatched her away from being frozen by the villain in less than a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s really something,” Tikki said, poking her head out of Marinette’s purse. “That was nice of him to save you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s his job,” Marinette said. The kwami raised her eyebrows. “Tikki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she said innocently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget it. Spots on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Ladybug made her way outside of the school, chaos was reigning. In a mockery of a garden party, the villain had constructed a throne made entirely of solidified glowing white light, that she was reclining on luxuriously, freezing people at random. “I won’t stop until Eunhae gets here,” she called out. “So someone had better bring him quickly, before I lose my patience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With Saint Valentin's day coming up,” Chat Noir said in an undertone, “you’d think some of these boys would have more sense than to reject people. This really is the worst time of year for Akumas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s deal with it quickly,” Ladybug whispered back. “This is already painful enough being in the middle of the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish, milady.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Ladybug and Chat Noir drew near to the setup where the villain was waiting, the girl’s nonchalant gaze fell on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you come to join the fun?” The Akumatized villain giggled, kicking her feet against the throne. “I’m the Manipulator, and it’s my job to make everyone happy as can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not so sure I want to be happy, if that’s so,” Chat Noir retorted. “It looks like you’re in for a splash of reality.” He swung out his baton, ready to fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Manipulator shook her finger teasingly at him. “Now, now, kitty. You shouldn’t scratch without any warning.” She pressed her palms together at chest height, and a burst of light glowed as her bracelets linked together. “In order to be happy, you must first have no secrets from one another. I kept a secret for too long, which led me to this point.” Ladybug took a step forward, and the Manipulator’s glowing white gaze landed on her. “You should not keep secrets either. When you finally work up the courage to reveal it, I can tell you that your partner would not like to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze flicking to Chat Noir, Ladybug took a breath and released it to erase the crushing tension. “I hope you’re wrong about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel certain that if you continue down this road, the outcome will be as I have predicted.” The Manipulator smiled creepily. “We can fix that, though. If I cannot be happy, then I’ll make everyone else happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate the sentiment, but we’re fine as is,” Chat Noir said. “So why don’t you just tell us where the Akuma is and we’ll be on our way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you where it is if you play my game,” the villain bargained. </span>
</p><p><span>Chat Noir’s green eyes glowed. “You should know that I don’t like to lose. So, deal.” He extended his hand, and the Manipulator shook it, an exhilarated laugh bursting from her mouth. </span><span><br/></span> <span>“And if I win, I’ll get your Miraculouses. Because when you two reveal your secrets, there’s no way you’ll want to be together and bring me down.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Ladybug backed away. “Chat Noir, this wasn’t a good idea. We should just--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too late!” The Manipulator clapped her hands and a pocket of light expanded outward. Ladybug turned to run, and it caught her up. There was one moment where she felt completely devoid of anything around her, and then the light tucked her away into a place where nothing existed except her and Chat Noir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a sort of room, also. A cube-shaped cage, nothing beyond it--the walls made of a nonexistent whiteness of light. Ladybug pounded on one wall, flicked her yo-yo out, smashing it into the cube, but the walls rippled and warped, giving way to the blow, and then returned to the state of nothingness that they were originally in. Ladybug let out a muffled yell of pure impatience and plopped down next to Chat Noir, who had been watching her patiently all this time. “Should I use my Cataclysm?” he asked her. Ladybug started to nod, then changed her mind. “We don’t know the rules of this dimension, and if you use it, it might fail. Then your identity will be revealed, and then...who knows if Hawkmoth is watching us?” She stopped abruptly. Chat Noir was smiling at her. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said </span>
  <em>
    <span>we.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ladybug blinked. “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means...you really think we’re a team. That I’m not just your sidekick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on Earth are you talking about?” Ladybug blurted, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir sighed. “We’re supposed to be making confessions, right? Well, here’s mine. I’m afraid that I don’t mean as much to you as you do to me. I’m afraid that even though we’re supposed to be the two most powerful heroes, that I’ll never be on your level. That I’ll always be just your sidekick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked away, threading his fingers together. “You mean well, but there’s been a hundred occasions where I--” He stopped, sighing. “Just once, I want to be the one with ideas. You know? You don’t always have to take the lead. I can be a hero too, Ladybug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a hero,” Ladybug said automatically. Then she paused. Maybe…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s right, you know. You always push him away. You’re the one making him feel like this. Like he’s worthless, Marinette. Ladybug. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve been so busy thinking about Félix that you never paused to notice the boy right next to you. The one with feelings, and desires, and needs. The one who’s tried to be more than your partner, the one who desperately wants to be your friend. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You haven’t been a very good partner, Ladybug.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marinette dug her nails into her palms. How many times had she thrown him into the thick of danger, expecting him to land on his feet? How many times had she ignored his plan in favor of her own?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How many times had she rejected him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And now. Now, even after Félix. First Adrien, and now Félix, and every memory she had with him. It was just...complicated. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As long as you and I both know the truth, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d said. But that wasn’t true at all. She’d agreed, hadn’t she? But she paid the price every day. Félix, Félix, Félix, who ignored his feelings, the friendships he could have had and his life in favor of following the rules. Félix, who she’d obsessively stalked to the point where he was probably uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s head was pounding, but her thoughts continued on a relentless cycle. A trainwreck of anger. The pedestal she’d put Félix on was too high. He could never come down if she continued this way. And here she still was, stuck worshipping at her lovesick altar of messed-up emotions. Too afraid to acknowledge that what she felt for Chat Noir wasn’t just good comradeship, and too afraid to let go of her obsessive love for Félix for fear of the emptiness that would remain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories of this world were hers now. She didn’t know if they would remain, but even now, the remnants of her old life was blurred and out of focus, replaced with these new ones. This world--this life--was hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened her eyes, and turned to Chat Noir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one who was with her. The one who had always been with her. The one who would be with her to the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one who gave her everything he had, even when she tore him apart, and still expected nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t say you’re just friends, Ladybug, not after everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Confess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s given you all he had. You have spent so long hurting him, and for what? For a boy who will never feel what you want him to feel. Give the one that is here what you have.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you, Chaton. I’m not sure, exactly, what I feel, but I know I feel something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” Chat Noir propped his chin in his hands. “I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true.” Marinette scrubbed at her eyes, hating the way they were swimming in dampness. “I’ve just spent so </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> liking someone that I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know who I am without him. But that’s not important. I haven’t been a good partner and I haven’t been your friend. So here’s my confession. When we escape, that’s going to change. I swear I’ll never let you feel like my sidekick again. You’re more important to me than you know.” She let out a strangled hiccup. “I’m so sorry!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir didn’t seem to know where to look. Under his mask, his cheeks were tinted pink. He cleared his throat. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chat!” Ladybug leaped to her feet. Around them, the cube was beginning to shake, the walls shimmering, turning translucent gold. “It worked!” Elated, she barely noticed as Chat moved next to her, taking her hand, and as the cube collapsed, so too did their figures, collapsing in a shower of sparks, to reform again in the Akumatised gardens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you resolve your problems?” the Manipulator asked, seated again on her throne. “Will you live happily ever after? Ladybug princess and her kitty prince?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won’t ever be happy together.” Ladybug said. “Not yet, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Manipulator’s gleeful smile twisted, and her eyes glowed. ”</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She clapped her hands together, the light shining around them again. “How did you get out, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be asking me that question!” Chat Noir appeared from behind, his hand glowing with a Cataclysm. “And guess what? I still have lots of things I would never tell Ladybug!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How--how--</span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Manipulator growled in rage. “Clearly, you two have a lot of work to do. But I’ll take on the responsibility!” She raised her hands above her head, ready to shoot twin beams of light and trap Ladybug and Chat Noir once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky charm!” Ladybug shouted. She held out her hands, expecting a mirror or something to reflect the Manipulator’s beams back at her to appear. Instead, what dropped into her outstretched hands was a tissue packet, spotted in black. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Then she tucked and rolled out of the way as a beam of light shot straight at her. “Oof!” She’d scraped her shoulder hard against the ground when she smacked into it to avoid the trapping beam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Chat Noir had vanished again, ostensibly to his next attack position. It was like he’d predicted the Manipulator’s movements and dodged accordingly. Like a game of chess. She recalled his words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You should know I don’t like to lose. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Could anyone beat him, if he predicted their movements so easily? Could Ladybug herself beat him? The only way to win would be to catch him off guard, and the Manipulator didn’t seem able to faze him in the slightest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only way to get the girl to drop her guard long enough for Chat Noir to grab the Akumatised object was to confront her. Ladybug smiled. She knew now what to do with her lucky charm.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*jazz hands* was it everything you hoped it would be? great because it only gets worse from here</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. i am once again listening to ce mur qui nous separe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy tuesday and happy reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Manipulator was drumming her pink heels against the back of her throne, the heart motifs on her dress puckering and turning black as she seethed. “Come out, come out. I’m tired of this waiting game.” Her tone dripped with acid. Sweet and sugary and venomous, like a tropical poisonous snake. Her eyes landed on Ladybug, who had stepped into her line of sight. She hopped off her throne and grinned, extending her arms as if to embrace Ladybug. “There you are!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re upset, aren’t you?” Ladybug ripped open the tissue packet and held one out. “Here. I know how you feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one understands how I feel,” the Manipulator said quietly, the venom gone from her tone. “How could I have wasted so much time? I want to go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all wish we could go back.” Ladybug took a step closer. It was truer than the other girl realised. It hurt. The wound of letting go was still fresh. She knew that this was her world now, and she no longer felt the need to return to a world that she had never truly felt attached to. It still ached, but the riotous emotions had cooled into something softer, more pastel. Shades of acceptance. Something freeing her to move on and make this world--this life--her own. “But you have to try and make the most of what you have. You would be surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but...I don’t have anything.” The akumatised girl clenched her fists. “Now that the only thing keeping me going is gone, I have nothing left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then make something to go on for.” Ladybug said quietly. “Find someone to go on for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want to! I don’t want to go on until I have what I want!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Manipulator screamed. “What about that don’t you get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand, okay? Believe me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar!” The Manipulator slammed her palms together and pushed them outward in a gesture of dismissal. “You will not get in my way again!” The beam of light slammed into Ladybug, sending her sprawling backwards. The momentum of the hit carried her backwards until she hit the wall of the cafe opposite, sending up a plume of mortar and dust. Her wrists and arm up to the elbows were trapped in the light--it was impossible to move, and more light was coalescing around her ankles, holding her in place. Ladybug struggled, but her wrists, pinned over her head, were frozen in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Manipulator stalked towards her, a gleam in her eyes and her smile twisted. “This will be a simple process, I hope.” Her cold fingers closed on Ladybug’s earlobe and pulled--and her left earring came off. “So easy. How could Le Papillon have failed up til now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because unlike us, he doesn’t believe in teamwork!” Ladybug shot back. Her mask was fizzing, spots of sparkling red dancing in the air as it came off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Manipulator’s fingers were on her other earring, ready to yank it off and reveal her identity, when Chat Noir slammed into her full force, knocking her off balance. “Normally, I’d wish to know who you were, milady, but not when someone else is orchestrating it!” He ripped the earring from the Manipulator’s fist and ran to Ladybug. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking to know who you are just yet.” He kept his gaze firmly on her ear as he put the earring back in carefully, luckily for Ladybug, since her face was heating unnecessarily much. She felt it the moment the Miraculous slid back into place, and Chat Noir stepped back. “I’ll free you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t!” Ladybug stopped him just as he was about to shout </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cataclysm! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“We don’t know if you’ll need it to break the Akuma. Just grab her bracelet with your Cataclysm and I’ll be freed from there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the ground, the villain was struggling to her feet. “You ruin everything!” she sobbed. “I could have just given your Miraculous to Le Papillon and then he would have made everything okay again! He promised to make Eunhae love me, and now he never will!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And destroy Paris, while he’s at it,” Chat Noir said. “Forcing someone to love you will never be what you really want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is what I want!” The Manipulator stomped her foot, her pink boot cracking the sidewalk with the force of her anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when Chat Noir shouted “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cataclysm!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and ran vertically up the school wall, clenching the cataclysm tight in his fist. He flipped backwards off, and the Manipulator tried to dodge, but he was faster. Landing on the ground just in front of her, he lunged forward. “Gotcha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir’s gloved fingers closed around her wrist, and the Manipulator shrieked. “Let go!” But his Cataclysm had met its intended target--her bracelet. It crumbled to ash and dust, and the butterfly flitted out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug’s yo-yo caught and released it deftly, and it flapped away in another moment. The Akumatised villain detransformed, revealing a sobbing girl kneeling over a broken charm bracelet grasped in her hands. “I-it’s not fair,” she wept. “I deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. “You do deserve to be happy, but you can do that on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?” She looked up, teary. Then she threw her arms around Ladybug. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. We can fix the damage,” Ladybug said. She tossed the tissue packet into the air, where it burst into ladybugs, instantly repairing the cracked sidewalks and broken streetlamps. “Will you be okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Students poured out of hiding, chattering and calling out amongst themselves. The akumatised girl picked herself up unsteadily, holding the charm bracelet in her hand. With precision, she broke it in her hands and tossed it into the nearest trash can. “I don’t think I need this any longer.” She made her way back into the school, tossing Ladybug a smile as she left. “I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p><span>“I’d say we handled that quite well,” Chat Noir said over Ladybug’s shoulder. “Should we get back to our</span> <span>previous arrangements?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Definitely. But, um,” Ladybug began. “You know I meant what I said, right? I do li-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it.” Chat Noir put a finger to her lips. “Not until you know it’s what you really feel.” He blurred away, and Ladybug swung away after a momentary pause to detransform on the school rooftop. Back into Marinette, where the last thing she had to worry about was whether or not she might possibly have the beginnings of feelings for her Chaton. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In school later that day, Marinette had the uncomfortable realisation that though her grades were high, she was behind on most all of her homework. She’d been so busy battling Akumas for the last week that she’d had no time to properly finish any of her assignments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>20.000 lieues sous les mers: Tour du monde sous-marin,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>M. Oliver intoned. “All of you should have read part one by yourselves for homework this week. I will be giving a comprehensive test tomorrow on the themes and subtle plot points of the text.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette groaned to herself: she remembered </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting </span>
  </em>
  <span>the book all right, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>reading </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. </span>
  <span>Chloé snickered. “I hope your average doesn’t suffer </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your enthusiasm for my potential failure is overwhelming,” Marinette muttered back, then straightened up and widened her eyes as the teacher’s gaze fell on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Bourgeois? Miss Dupain-Cheng? I take it since you are both enjoying a personal conversation, you have adequately read and understood the material?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Chloé said, nodding seriously. “I read the very last page of Part One last night.” To Marinette she added in an undertone, “The only page I read was that one, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I certainly hope your scores reflect that.” M. Oliver turned back to the board. “Everyone open your literature books to page 401 and read the passage there quietly to yourselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forty minutes later, the final bell rang, and Marinette startled out of her seat. She was unusually on edge--the Manipulator’s attack that morning had set her nerves off, and she felt frayed and jumpy. It didn’t help that for the last hour the things she’d stumbled out, trying to tell Chat, had been bouncing around her mind in a Greek chorus of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why are you like this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Class dismissed,” the teacher announced as footsteps sounded in the hallway outside and chairs started to scrape back from desks as her classmates shuffled papers and zipped up bags and backpacks. “See you tomorrow. I hope all of you are prepared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette remained in her seat for a moment, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. There was no way she could read the entire beginning of the book and do the guide questions by herself in one night. Perhaps she could ask for an extension….?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “So you haven’t read it either?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette looked up. </span>
  <span>Félix was standing over her desk, looming really: he had rather an ominous aura. She gulped, wondering if he was about to yell at her again for staring at him during class. Then her brain caught up with what he’d said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What haven’t I read?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The book. When M. Oliver said the test was tomorrow, you panicked, indicating that you hadn’t yet read it nor completed the guide,” </span>
  <span>Félix said. “I haven’t had time to read it either. I have been...otherwise preoccupied. So let’s work together.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Huh?” Marinette blinked. “What?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Let’s work together,” Félix repeated, no trace of a mocking smirk on his face. He wasn’t joking nor making fun of her. “Get your things. The school library will be too crowded.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Marinette was lost. “Why do I need to get my things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you can come to my house and work on the study guide,” Félix sighed. “Do attempt to keep up with me.” He picked up Marinette’s bookbag and with methodical efficiency began to slide her notebook and papers inside one by one, as well as her pencil case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then,” Marinette said, surprised. “I mean...if you really want to work with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Félix finished putting her things away and held out her bag. “The car will be outside. Get your coat.” He slid his own bag over his shoulder and exited the classroom, Marinette staring after, wondering if she hadn’t just been handed the present of a bright new second chance, all wrapped with a pretty ribbon. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. the macaron chapter hgghgn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im screm this is my favorite chapter so far</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Outside the school, the car that dropped Félix off and picked him up at the beginning and end of each day was idling at the curb, the driver waiting patiently.</p><p>Félix was waiting by the door, leaning against the car languidly, but he straightened when he saw her. “Took you long enough.”</p><p>“I had to call and tell my parents I was going to your house to read the book together,” Marinette said. Her parents’ reactions when she called them to tell them quickly were better left unsaid. Suffice to say her father had been most excited about the turn of events.</p><p>Félix opened the car door for her and beckoned her to get inside. “After you.”</p><p>Marinette slid in cautiously, the buttery leather of the seat uncomfortably high-class. “Thank...you.” She still wasn’t sure whether this was some kind of a joke, but Félix looked serious as usual. “What made you invite me over?”</p><p>“Nothing really.” Félix slid into the seat behind her, shutting the door, and the car immediately purred away from the school, pulling lightly into traffic. “I realised that I might have been a bit more brusque than was necessary the other day. I felt amends were in order.”</p><p>Staring down at her hands in her lap, Marinette blushed out of embarrassment and confliction. “I shouldn’t have barged in like that. But I just wanted to...to do something different. So that maybe you’d like me.”</p><p>“I do.” Félix coughed. “I mean, I do not hate you. It was just unexpected. And I have, well, bad luck. With people.”</p><p>“Well, not with me,” Marinette said. “Or why else would I be so determined to be friends with you?”</p><p>“Just friends?” Félix’s gaze was probing. “If nothing else, it will prove interesting.”</p><p>“There’s no need to rub it in,” muttered Marinette. “I get that I was annoying before, but I really won’t be so clingy. I promise.”</p><p>“Not that I minded,” Félix said under his breath. Quickly, Marinette fixed her eyes on the scenery outside the window and did not tear her gaze away until the car pulled to a stop outside the Agreste mansion. Why was he being so confusing now? This was not what she’d wanted to get into. </p><p> </p><p>A maid opened the door for them, obviously having been alerted to their arrival. “Master Félix, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Tea will be in the parlor.”</p><p>Marinette tried not to gawp--she’d seen this once already, anyway, but the aproned maid didn’t get any less Victorian, nor did the high-ceilinged foyer with marble floors and a dark rug with deep cranberry detailing. It was the quintessential gloomy and old-money mansion, and Marinette’s school uniform and pigtails felt out of place. Way out place. </p><p>“My grandfather won’t be home until later tonight,” said Félix over his shoulder, “so we’ve got time. I’ll be down in a moment.” He was already halfway up the spiral staircase, and Marintet tried not to panic. </p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“My room. Go wait in the parlor and I’ll meet you there. Ten minutes,” Félix told her. Then he disappeared up the stairs, leaving her standing on the foyer rug awkwardly. </p><p>“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” The maid was at her side. “I can take your bag, if you’d like.”</p><p>“Oh, no.” Marinette clutched her schoolbag protectively. “I mean, I need this for the book.” </p><p>“The book?” The maid looked puzzled, but then her expression cleared. “Oh, you’re here for a school project. I assumed you and the young master were dating. You seem close.”</p><p>“N-no way!” Marinette sputtered. “Me and Félix? No way. Never.”</p><p>“Well, he seems to like you. I’ve never seen him hold anyone’s hand before,” the maid told her confidentially. “He’s never really been close to anyone.”</p><p>“Oh. Ah. Um,” Marinette said. “But no, we’re not dating.”</p><p>“That’s a shame. You’d be a sweet pair.” The maid took Marinette’s coat from her arm. “I’ll hang this up. The parlor is the second door on that hallway. Call for Mia if you need me, and I’ll be here for anything you might need.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Marinette replied. Mia had already hurried away with her coat, however, so Marinette made her way to the parlor. </p><p>Tea had been set out on a glass table with two carved chairs on either side of the little table, and Marinette took a careful seat in one of the chairs. </p><p>There was a spindly china teacup with a pattern of painted flowers, forget-me-nots; and a small teapot curling with steam, as well as an assortment of tarts, pastries, and sandwiches. Gingerly Marinette poured herself some tea--from the bergamot, she judged it to be Earl Grey, and added two lumps of sugar. She wasn’t sure whether or not to add the milk that resided in a little jug on the tea tray next to it, but in the end she splashed a bit in anyway, just enough to turn the tea caramel-brown. Marinette waited in the parlor nervously, sitting ramrod straight and stiffly, because everything looked far too classy and fancy, and she felt out of place among all the lavish ornaments and expensive furniture. </p><p>She had drunk about half, too nervous to eat, when Félix entered the room in a crisp, short-sleeved white shirt and charcoal-gray track pants. Immediately she choked on the sip of tea she’d just taken. <em> He looks...nice. </em></p><p>“Did you think I just wore my uniform all day?” Félix asked when he caught her staring. </p><p>To be fair, Marinette had been imagining him walking down the polished marble floors in a perfectly tailored black suit and tie, so…”Maybe? I guess?”</p><p>“You would.” Félix picked up her bag. “We’re not studying in here. Follow me.”</p><p>Marinette wrapped jam tarts and iced chess cookies into a pristine white cloth napkin and stuffed it in her skirt pocket before continuing after him. Sustenance was required to get through this evening.</p><p>In a cozy room pocketed away on the third floor, Marinette and Félix entered. A fire had been built up, filling the chilly air of the mansion room with a crackling warmth. There were a number of soft chairs and pillows, as well as carved bookcases taking up wall space, filled with thick volumes. The kind of place to settle down and read for hours on a wintry day. </p><p>Fishing in her bag for the book, she pulled it out of the small pocket of her bag, along with the six pages of study guide questions that went along with it. “Should we answer the questions chapter by chapter or read first and answer after?”</p><p>“We can answer the questions last,” said Félix. He sat down on a soft chair, sliding down until his head was on the arm and his legs were over the side of the chair, folding one arm behind his head to support it. “Start reading.”</p><p>Marinette glared at him. “I believe you’ve forgotten something?”<br/>Félix blinked at her, turning his head to meet her gaze. “What’s that?”</p><p><em> “Please,” </em>she said. </p><p>Unbidden, he flashed her a brilliant smile and widened his eyes innocently. Marinette’s mouth popped open a bit upon seeing the smile. “Please?”</p><p>“I didn’t think you knew how to smile.” Marinette looked more closely at his smile--a sharp flash of something reserved and just a tinge of amusement. </p><p>“Just read the book.”</p><p>Marinette rolled her eyes and opened the book. <em> “L'année 1866 a été marquée par un développement bizarre, un phénomène inexpliqué et carrément inexplicable que personne n'a sûrement oublié…” </em></p><p>She read for nearly an hour, until the words were slip-sliding out of her mouth and not a one was sticking in her mind, until she was in a half-doze stilled only by the necessity to continue reading. <br/>Remembering the macarons suddenly, she stopped at the end of the chapter and marked her place. Félix’s eyes had been closed, but they opened now and he blinked in her direction, lashes fluttering as he shook off his half-doze. “Is something the matter?”</p><p>“No, not at all,” Marinette said. “I just wanted to give you these.” She stood up to hand him the small box of macarons, and he tipped his head back to see it. </p><p>“Open it for me, please,” he told her. “I don’t want to move,”</p><p>“For such an uptight boy, you’re shockingly lazy,” Marinette said, but she opened the box anyway and pulled out a macaron with her fingertips, holding it for him to see. “I made you macarons. To apologise again, I guess. I didn’t know what flavour you liked, so I made dark chocolate with raspberry filling.” </p><p>Félix’s mouth turned down, his lips forming a faint frown. “It was kind of you to think of me, but I don’t like sweets. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Marinette nodded, but her face must have fallen as she pulled the macaron away to put it back into the box, because Félix’s eyes flickered, noting her expression. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand down to his mouth, and took a bite of the macaron. </p><p>“No, don’t do that!” Marinette tried to pull her hand back, but his fingers kept her hand steady as he finished off the macaron. “Félix! You don’t like sweets, so don’t eat it!”</p><p>He swallowed, the macaron gone. “Well, I wanted you to smile. Now that I’ve eaten it, you have to smile.”</p><p>Obligingly, Marinette smiled. </p><p>“There you go. Now you look properly happy again.” He gave her that brilliant smile again, the one that no one else, save her, had ever seemed to have seen. “I dislike it when you look upset.”</p><p>Marinette’s heart twinged. He really was trying to be a good friend, and it made her stomach flip-flop. If only Former Marinette could have been here in her place: she would have finally gotten to see the side of Félix she’d been chasing for so long. She tried to remove her hand from Félix’s grasp, but he held on to her wrist still. </p><p>“Félix?”</p><p>“I want more.” He brought her fingers to his mouth again and licked the sugar and chocolate granules still clinging to her fingers. His lips were on her fingertips, and she couldn’t breathe. No wonder the other Marinette had lost all rationality when around him---this was borderline improper. </p><p>Marinette was bright red and her cheeks were burning so hotly, she was sure to melt into a puddle if he didn’t stop. “I--I…” Luckily for her sanity, he released her and she sat down hard, her entire face and neck a brilliant crimson, “Don’t do that to me!”</p><p>“If you insist.” Félix leaned back. “But you have to promise to bring me more macarons.”</p><p>“Can’t you just buy some?” Marinette despaired. If this was going to happen again, she would need to be very, very, very much more prepared. Ten years in the future prepared. </p><p>“I only want them if you bake them,” Félix said. He was like a stubborn child, Marinette thought, Sulky when he couldn’t have what he wanted and angelic when he could. </p><p>“I’ll bring you more if you let me finish the book,” Marinette bargained. “No interruptions, okay?”</p><p>“Alright, then.” </p><p>She reopened the book, her pounding heart steadying, and began the next chapter. <em> “At this shout the entire crew rushed toward the harpooner—commander, officers, mates, sailors, cabin boys, down to engineers leaving their machinery and stokers neglecting their furnaces. The order was given to stop, and the frigate merely coasted...” </em></p><p>When they’d finished the study guide questions, the sweets in Marinette’s pocket long since eaten, her stomach was creaking with hunger. Félix heard the grumble and asked, somewhat embarrassed, if she’d like to have dinner. It wasn’t as stuffy as Marinette had feared though--he ordered pizza and they ate sitting on the floor of the reading room. </p><p>When the pizza box lay empty, Félix chose that moment to ask her if she’d like to come with him to a charity ball that weekend. “I need a date, and I supposed I might as well ask you.”</p><p>Marinette was too full to resist. “You did that on purpose,” she complained. “Waited until after I was done eating most of the pizza and then asked me to go so I’d be beholden to you.”</p><p>“There’s going to be food,” said Félix. </p><p>Marinette snatched the invitation from his hand. “Do I need a dress?”</p><p>“It’s formal, so yes. In the envelope there’s a check for you to buy one,” said Félix. “The ball is Friday evening before the winter holidays begin. I’ll send a car to take you, because my grandfather has asked that I be first in attendance to make sure that everything is in order, and that would mean I need to be there an hour in advance.”</p><p>“Oh. That’s no problem,” said Marinette. “But a check? Take it back.” She tried to push it back into his hand, but he closed her fingers over it. </p><p>“Just keep the thing. If nothing else you can use it later.” Félix stood, lending her a hand so she could get up as well. “The car will take you back.”</p><p>“You’re not going to drop me off?” Marinette teased, but he looked thoughtful.</p><p>“I could.”</p><p>“No, you don’t have to,” she said immediately. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow? At school?”</p><p>“Tomorrow.” With those as parting words, she left with a cheerful goodbye to Félix. </p><p>Of course, the moment she got back home she slammed the door of her bedroom and let out a piercing shriek. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>what are u saying...we're JUST FRIENDS</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. mari goes dress shopping!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>what now?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chloé screeched over the phone. “With less than a week’s warning? Daddy told me about the gala weeks ago!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Marinette struggled not to laugh as Chloé continued with her tirade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, get your butt over here, Dupain-Cheng! You need a dress, and don’t think I’m going to let you stay up all night making one either--you will </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>after I approve it! Is that understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, fine,” Marinette said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be here five minutes ago!” Chloé hung up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Marinette biked to the Hotel Paris, Chloé gave her no more than a minute to lock up her bike before they were in the car and heading to the boutique that Audrey Bourgeois frequented, a great number of her dresses having appeared in said shop before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The store was spacious, all white walls and mirrors. Salespeople in all-black clothing and perfectly primped hair and retail-service smiles greeted them, complimentary bottles of spring water with a twist of lemon offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two salesgirls, one tall, one petite, buzzed around Chloé for some minutes before the blonde shooed them away, telling them that Marinette was the one that would be buying from here today. Immediately, their attention switched to hers, and she was ushered into a large fitting room with a three-sided mirror so that she could see all views of herself. Marinette spun around in a circle experimentally, and three versions of herself did likewise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After ten minutes, or possibly more, of Marinette sitting on the soft bench along one wall and waiting, unsure what she was supposed to do, Chloé waltzed in with an armful of dresses, tossing them at Marinette in a swirl of silk and glitter. “Try them all on. I’ll be outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling the first one, a swishy mermaid-green dress with a full, tea-length skirt, off the hanger, Marinette put it on. Chloé’s judgement was an instant nope as soon as she peeked in for a quick scan. “That shade of green is not your color.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sunshine-yellow one with a bright pink sash and flowers stenciled along the hem was vetoed as well, saying it made Marinette look too pale and washed-out, as was a sky-blue one that was, in Chloé’s humble opinion, too basic for a formal party, as it had cap sleeves and only reached her calves. “Everyone in there is guaranteed to be wearing floor-length dresses, and you absolutely cannot look like a kindergartener in a short dress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two dresses, both black and white, one after the other were nixed, and then the petite salesgirl popped her head in. “Miss Chloé? I have a dress that might fit your friend. The customer decided not to buy it after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She passed Marinette a tissue-papered bundle and closed the door again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling the dress over her head, cool silk feeling soft and slippery on her skin, Marinette hoped this would be the one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette stepped in front of the mirror, and without Chloé’s even asking, did a little twirl. The dress was peach-pink with undertones of blush and rose gold, with a floor-length skirt that rustled gently on the dressing room floor. It had thin strap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline dusted with gold glitter, and there was a rose-pink silk sash cinched around the waist of it that led to a large bow at the back of her waist, long ribbons trailing nearly to the floor from under the bow. The top was form-fitting, the skirt flaring gently out, and it was impractical and ridiculous and dreamy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She called Chloé in, who instantly nodded her approval. “That might be the right one,” Chloé said with a little golf clap. “I’ll go make them give it to us for half the price!” She trotted out of the dressing room, leaving Marinette to let out an excited squeal and then immediately clap her hands over her mouth in mortification. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, after eating sushi and clinking glasses of milk tea with flavoured ice with Chloé, dissecting every single part of her visit to Félix’s, (obviously leaving out the macaron thing, because some things could never be shared. Ever.), Marinette transformed into Ladybug and leapt out the window, on her way to meet with Chat for night patrol. Plus, she had to ask if she could take a night off tomorrow in order to attend Félix’s party. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when they met, after spotting and de-Akumatising M. Pigeon yet again, Chat Noir had plans of his own, he confided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a previous engagement tomorrow night,” said Chat Noir, “so I won’t be able to make it to patrol unless an Akuma attacks directly. Will you be alright for one night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug said yes, although she wanted to let out a groan. She’d been meaning to ask if she could take a day off patrol as well, because of Félix’s party tomorrow. But she supposed she could come just a little bit later to the party after doing a quick flyover search of Paris and scanning for any kind of trouble. Félix had said he’d be held up with greeting guests, after all, so surely he wouldn’t notice if she was a bit late. “Okay, I don’t mind,” she said to Chat Noir. “Have fun with your other plans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw her a wink. “Nothing is as fun as being your partner, milady. Although my plans come close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To tell the truth, Ladybug was intrigued. “Really? What could you possibly be doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you jealous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only joking. I’m going on a date,” Chat Noir confessed. Ladybug blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re...going...on a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imagine that,” Chat Noir said dryly. “Civilian things. But it promises to be fun, and she’s a really sweet girl. You would like her a lot, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Ladybug’s face fell, masked by the darkness keeping them secluded, and her face was turned away so Chat Noir’s see-in-the-dark ability wouldn’t work. “That sounds nice. Does she know who you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t know I’m Chat Noir, if that’s what you’re asking. Believe it or not, she likes me outside of the costume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about her, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were against us knowing about each other’s civilian lives,” Chat pointed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not asking about you, I’m asking about her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you really do sound jealous. But if you really want to know, she’s friendly and determined and stubborn, but sometimes lets herself get walked on, but she’s sweet and kind and the kind of person that won’t let anyone else be alone, and she seems to actually like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She sounds nice,” Ladybug said quietly, wishing that were her. Why had she waited this long to realise how she felt? If she’d only told Chat Noir what she truly felt, and in such a way that he couldn’t misunderstand. But it seemed like he was over her now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not giving up on you,” they said at the same time. Ladybug’s head whipped to the side, her gaze locking on Chat Noir’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same as you, evidently,” he said with a chuckle. “We really are hopeless, milady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go,” Ladybug told him. “Or I’m going to say something I’ll regret later on. Have fun on your date.” She soared across the rooftops, back to the Hotel Paris to slip through the window before he could notice that she was about to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because she was Ladybug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she had to keep her feelings in check. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry, this chapter's a bit short, but tomorrow's....<br/>well. <br/>WELL.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. rich people at a party: 'damn there's someone poor here EW'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>do u ever feel. like a piece of trash</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On Friday night, around seven o’ clock, Marinette transformed into Ladybug and did the fastest sweep of the city in record history, leaping from rooftop to awning to streetlamp and searching for even the slightest hint of something amiss. </span>
</p><p><span>Even though she was moving quickly, it still took some time to patrol the entirety of Paris, and so by the time she got to the Agreste hotel on the river, the party had already begun. Hiding behind a wide pillar, she de-transformed, already having changed into her dress and done her hair before leaving as Ladybug. Tikki hid in the pocket of her dress--Marinette had been pleased to find that there were wide deep pockets hidden among the folds of the full skirt of the pink dress, and she stepped out from behind the pillar and up to the doors, her invitation held tight in her hand. </span><span><br/></span> <span>The doorman looked her up and down before accepting the invitation--her shimmering pink heels and updo that she’d painstakingly arranged for nearly an hour, spirals of hair falling around either side of her face in gentle curls, and the makeup that she’d tried out before giving up on anything dramatic and just going with blush and peach lip-gloss.</span></p><p>
  <span>He opened the door for her, bowing his head slightly, and she picked up her skirts and entered, trying hard to walk toe-heel and not trip or wobble. The heels weren’t very high, but she was used to wearing flats, so it was precarious to walk on the thick carpet leading to the ballroom, as the uneven surface threatened to make her stumble at any moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were double doors leading to the hotel ballroom, and she could hear the faint strains of violin music, interspersed with plinking piano. Pulling open one door, she slipped inside, the party in full swing already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Men in tailored suits were escorting women in draped evening gowns, scented with perfume and dripping with fur pieces and jewels, and groups of people were speaking in low voices, holding flutes of champagne and tiny plates with hors d’ oeuvres. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lighted crystal chandelier reflected glimmers of light everywhere, and the room was lit by gentle candlelight and soft overhead lights. Servers in pristine black uniforms slipped in and out of the couples bearing trays of savories and pastries, as well as champagne flutes and thin stems of wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette scanned the room for Félix, finding him speaking with two guests, the woman in her early sixties and the silver-haired gentleman next to Félix with one hand on his shoulder older still.</span>
  <em>
    <span> He must be Félix’s grandfathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>r, Marinette realised.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I should go and say hello. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She made her way through the people, with assorted ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘pardon me’s’ before she reached Félix. Not wanting to call out and draw attention the improper way, she instead slipped up to him and smiled in what she hoped was a formal way at them. “Hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, here you are,” Félix said, his tone chilly, expression bored. “This is my date, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How adorable,” the woman they’d been talking to cooed, pinching Marinette’s cheek. “You certainly are a lucky young man, Félix. If I was twenty years younger, I’d be after you myself.” She laughed as though she’d just made a hilarious joke, although Marinette didn’t see the humor. Félix smiled, albeit stiffly, and turned to his grandfather as the woman walked away to accost another couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grandfather, may I introduce my date? Her parents own a </span>
  <em>
    <span>patisserie </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the 7th Arrondissement, the one I told you about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandfather had been turned away, speaking to another man quietly, but he turned back, his sharp gaze falling upon Marinette. It took all her willpower not to flinch. “I did not say I cared in the slightest. And she seems of low breeding. How distasteful. I thought you had more sense than to invite a baker’s daughter.” He turned on his heel and walked away, Marinette simultaneously confused and fuming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologise,” Félix said quietly. “He’s not normally so cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” Marinette said, and then blinked at the startled expression on Félix’s face. Like he’d heard something that had been said before, by him or someone else. It cleared after a moment, and she went on. “I mean--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry.” Félix took her hand. “He shouldn’t have said that. If you want to leave I won’t hold it against you.” The band struck up a new melody, one lively and a bit more fast-paced, and partners began to gravitate towards the center of the room, where the dance space was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to leave.” Marinette tightened her grasp on his hand, interlinking her fingers with his. “Why don’t we dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix had obviously had many dancing lessons, because he was good at it. Others were waltzing, so they did the same. He placed his right hand on her left shoulder, just where it dipped slightly, exposed by the thin straps. As soon as his hand met her bare skin both their faces reddened, but Marinette soldiered through the embarrassment. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Totally fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then.” Wrapping his left hand around her right, he kept his elbow at shoulder height, and she did the same.  “You’re the follow, so put your other hand on my shoulder,” he told her. She did as he said, and he took a step forward with his left foot. “Just follow along, and I’ll guide you through it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music soared, violin notes reaching, and Félix guided her through the waltz. “Want to try a spin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Marinette agreed, her tension melting. It was so easy to do this, although maybe it was just that Félix was orchestrating all her movements so she hardly had time to worry about whether or not she was doing it wrong. He spun her around, his hand tight on hers so she couldn’t stumble, and her skirts flared out, exactly like she’d always dreamed about when she was little. Wasn’t there a certain dream that most kids had, to wear a fancy dress with a billowing skirt and twirl in a ballroom like a princess?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing well,” Félix noted. “For the next dance, would you like to try leading?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can…” But then again, this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. How many times would she be able to dance with Félix? This might well be the first and last time. “Okay. I’ll try it, but don’t be mad if I’m terrible,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t be.” Félix sounded extremely self-assured, and it worried her. What if she stepped on his feet?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A new melody started, and they switched positions, her hand on his shoulder and her other wrapped around his left hand. Marinette took a step forward, almost but not quite missing the toe of his shoe, thank God, and they were dancing again, her guiding their movements this time. After a minute or two of holding in her breath and moving with tight steps, afraid she’d mess up, she relaxed, and everything seemed to fade out around them. The other couples, the lights, even the music became muted and background. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even meaning to, they’d gotten closer, so now Marinette was practically an inch from being able to stand up on her tip-toes and kiss him--wait, why was she thinking about that? They were just friends. And she liked Chat. Who...liked another girl, she admitted. She’d had her chance. But she was moving forward, guided by the music and her mood, and something else she hadn’t wanted to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to banish the thoughts prickling at her consciousness, NMarinette stepped back at the same time that Félix leaned in just as she had done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pink-cheeked, she stammered out a “sorry, I’m so sorry.” at the same time that he coloured and said the same thing. “Sh-should we try a turn?” she asked quickly to diffuse the awkwardness, and he acquiesced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dress swished as she moved back, drawing back her left heel and lifting her hand to allow him room to turn, and he did, but as he reached out to take her hand again, he caught her gaze and blushed, trying to move away rather than closer to her, and stumbled backwards, about to fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette caught him around the waist, panicking, and that was when she noticed how many people were staring at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...the de Vanily boy,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she heard someone whisper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But he seemed so unfriendly...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, explain that, then….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who’s the girl with him?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did he trip? What happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandfather was at the back of the room, glowering at her, his gaze directly on her. Hastily, she pulled Félix upright, and he took her arm and led her off the dance floor, his composure regained..”I need some water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same,” she said quickly, trying not to look back at his grandfather, whose gaze she could feel on the back of her head like a target. “Let’s go get some.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After they’d gotten glasses of water with lemon slices, Marinette would have gone back to the dance floor had Félix not quietly told her that he wanted to step out of the ballroom for a moment. “I’d like some air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to come with you?” Marinette set her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to, but I wouldn’t mind,” said Félix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m coming. I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air, either,” Marinette told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one side of the ballroom, there was a small balcony not far from the ground, as the ballroom was only on the second floor. It was hidden behind dark red velvet curtains that Félix pushed aside to unlatch the window and step outside, Marinette following. Her dress dragged on the balcony ground, and a light breeze made bumps rise on her arms, but it was nice out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for making you come,” Félix said peremptorily. His gaze was not on her face, but somewhere on the skyline over the balcony railing. “I should have just come alone like usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>making </span>
  </em>
  <span>me feel bad for you?” Marinette was teasing, but his eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to do that--I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, stop.” Marinette held up a hand. “It’s really okay. I’m glad I could come, if it makes you feel any less alone. And I...had fun dancing with you,” she confessed. Both of them were colouring, a light pink dusted across Félix’s sharp cheekbones. </span>
</p><p><span>“I did too.” He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “Could I maybe confide in you?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Of course you can.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“There’s this girl I’ve liked for a long time. A very long time, really. But I still don’t know if she even sees me as any more than a friend.” Félix sighed. “It’s tiring, to tell the truth. But recently, I’ve started to have other thoughts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Marinette said, noncommittal, although inside she was screaming. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought I was your only friend? Who is it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I don’t know how the other girl feels about me, either.” Félix was staring hard at her, directly, and it was disconcerting. “So I’d really like to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette shivered, suddenly, as the breeze played with the ends of her hair and chilled her arms, and Félix immediately opened the window so she could step back inside. “If you’re cold we won’t stay out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were safely ensconced inside the little alcove, entirely hidden by the heavy velvet curtains drawn over the balcony window, their conversation continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But...what about the one you’d liked for a long time? Are you just going to give up on her?” Marinette asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I can give up on her. But I want to give myself a chance. Should I go for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It depends,” Marinette answered. “Do you think the girl would want you to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so.” Then Félix’s hand was on the side of her face, his thumb tucked under her jaw, turning her face up to his, and Marinette wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, before suddenly, everything became crystal clear. Her arms slid around his waist, pulling him close, and her eyes slid shut. His breath ghosted over her mouth, and her stomach flip-flopped, her heart beating frantically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips had just brushed hers, sending chills down her spine, when screams rang out and the lights went out. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for the cliffhanger but <br/>HAS ANYONE ELSE SEEN WANDAVISION?????????????? IM OBSESSED (--lalie)</p><p>ailie's note: why would you watch a marvel show when you could be watching death note or maid sama???  usui stans where u at</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. mm whatcha say</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i know we said no posting on saturday but *jazz hands* surprise!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hello, ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed guests!” a raspy voice declared. “I must say, you have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ve-ry </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice party going on--and look, everyone who’s anyone in Paris is here. I suppose you wouldn’t mind getting on the floor and handing over your valuables!” A cackle, and then a hiss of smoke. “And I really must say, rich people make me sick. We’re better off without them, wouldn’t you agree?” Marinette recognized the hoarse cackle--like he’d inhaled too much smoke. Monsieur Villain. “So in ten minutes, this place and everyone in it goes </span>
  <em>
    <span>ka-boom!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small bang, and something exploded nearby them. Instantly Félix yanked her to the ground, as smoke billowed and screaming escalated. The curtains they’d been hiding behind were burning, fabric sending out an acrid smell of scorched velvet. Marinette was shielded by Félix’s body, and that was when the curtains toppled down on them. Both of them let out cries, and the rods that had held them up hit the floor, one of them striking Félix on the back of the head with a sickening </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and his arms dropped from around her as his body went limp.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Félix!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette rolled out from under Félix, her breathing ragged from shrieking. “Félix! Are you--Félix!” He didn’t respond, and her panic grew. The curtains had fallen over her head and his, and she pushed them away, the heavy fabric cumbersome and difficult to push away, but she managed. If only she could transform right here and now, it would be a cinch, but that would mean a reveal of her identity. She eventually pulled the curtains off them, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank God </span>
  </em>
  <span>slipping from her lips as she did. The metal rod that had struck Félix rolled away, and the weight of that that had been dragging the curtains down receded, and she was able to yank them off Félix as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix was unmoving and still, his eyes closed and his face deathly pale when she dragged him out from under the curtains that had collapsed on top of them and into a scene of chaos. The guests were huddled against the walls, most on their hands and knees to get below the smoke line, and the lights that had come back on were futile against the thick shroud of smoke that covered the room. Little fires were burning as candles toppled over, setting tablecloths alight and singing dress bottoms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many of the guests were crying, and some were shouting angrily at the Akumatised villain, but he ignored them, adding more plugs of dynamite to the center of the room as a timer in his hand beeped ominously, the seconds counting down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette shook Félix, trying desperately to wake him up so she could get him out of here and transform into Ladybug outside, but he didn’t wake. She slid her hands around the back of his head to lift it up, and her fingers met wetness, damp stickiness. “Félix! Wake up!” There was blood on the back of his head, not much, but it was flowing steadily. Head wounds always bled a lot, didn’t they? Marinette was too panicked to consider it rationally. “Help him!” she screamed at the nearest guests, two young women in expensive evening dresses sobbing in a corner. They supported the unconscious Félix, and Marinette backed away, the dim lighting making it the perfect opportunity to slip into the adjoining room. Racing for the stairs, she shoved the doors, but they didn’t open. “He locked us in?” If she had been the type to curse, she would have, in sheer frustration. “Tikki!” The kwami was at her side instantly, zipping out of her pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time to lose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I don’t know that?” Marinette was near tears. “Chat should have been here by now!” She shoved the door again, and it didn’t even move. Giving up, she ducked behind a large jungle plant in the lobby. There was no one around, she checked, and shouted “Spots on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, she burst into the ballroom at Ladybug and wasted no time lunging at M. Villain to grab the detonator. “Everyone out!” she shouted. The guests ran, alternating shrieks and gasps as they plunged out the ballroom doors and to the entry floor. The villain cackled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The doors are locked, girlie. No one’s going anywhere. But how did you get in?” He tapped his chin musingly. “Were you one of the guests? What a surprise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug wrenched the timer from his hands. “There’s no need for any deaths!” She broke the thing into two, wires splitting with the force of her rage. </span>
</p><ol>
<li><span> Villain chuckled. “That won’t do much. You see, it’s going to blow one way or another. You have...three minutes.” He tapped his watch tauntingly. “Pretty soon you’ll be blown to bits just like everyone else in here.”</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” Ladybug knocked him out with one punch to the jaw. He reeled back and collapsed, and that was when she noticed Félix lying on the ground. The girls that had been propping him up had just run? “Cowards!” She picked him up, one arm under his arms and the other under his knees and ran, carrying him bridal style down the stairs and to the doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire had spread, and it was licking behind her as she ran out of the ballroom. She could feel the heat at her back. There wasn’t much time, and it was clear by now--Chat wasn’t showing up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grunt, Ladybug slammed her body against the doors, twisting so that her back was against the glass of the doors and Félix, inert in her arms, was shielded from the blow. The doors shuddered and burst open, and the terrified people streamed out in a panicked crush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug was swept along with them, and she was able to lay Félix in the grass and rip off a strip of his shirt to hold to the back of his head, where a thin cut had been made evident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The villain had not exited. As she realised this, the dynamite went off. There was a huge </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then a symphony of them, noise enough to wake the entire city, and a thick plume of smoke mushroomed from the ceiling as it exploded, bits of stone and wood raining down over the building. A twisted piece of metal smashed into the ground, divoting a streak of dirt a yard long, inches away from Félix, and Ladybug scooped him up and carried him farther away, as around her people fled a safe distance away to the opposite end of the long hotel courtyard. Félix stirred in her arms, and Ladybug put him down again, letting out a laugh of relief and shock. He was okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire building was in flames, but everyone was outside, people dropping to their knees in the grass and thanking God, some crying, some numb and speechless. Gabriel Agreste was nowhere to be found among the assemblage, Ladybug realised. She stood, her eyes moving over the crowd. In the distance, there was the wail of fire sirens and the flashing lights of ambulances streaking towards them. People were pulling out cell phones and dialling 112, backup on its way already. A flicker of movement caught her attention. Félix had gotten to his feet, pressing a hand to the back of his head and wincing when his fingers came away red. “W-what happened?” He looked panicked, unsteady, his eyes searching. When they landed on the burning building, he stumbled back a step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay now,” Ladybug said gently, not wanting to upset him further. It was Félix, after all. She’d never want to hurt him. “I got you out. Everyone’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his gaze was still searching, searching, and then it latched onto hers with intensity. “Where’s Marinette?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I-” Ladybug couldn’t think of anything to say other than “I’m Marinette,” which was an absolute no, and that cemented it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Félix broke away from the crowd of guests and ran towards the flames leaping off the building, climbing out the windows and reaching for the sky. “Marinette!” he screamed. Ladybug moved to follow, but then there was a tremendous cracking sound, as though the sky was being rent apart and the earth tearing, and the roof caved in, the building collapsing in on itself, licked by fire and consumed by the blaze. But Félix still ran forward, straight towards the doors which had somehow stayed intact, still shouting for Marinette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug caught up with him in a moment and dragged him away, Félix trying to wrench out of her grasp, kicking wildly and shouting obscenities, cursing at her and yelling, still, for Marinette. “Let me go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” Ladybug panted. “I can’t let you go in there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But--Marinette is in there! You’d just leave her! I have to save her! If you won’t, I will!” Félix clawed at her arms, but her Miraculous strength outdid his, and finally he stopped resisting. There was a strange, choked sound coming from his mouth, and she let him drop. “I need to help her. Please, let me help her…” That was when he looked down at his hands. “My ring--I need my ring--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silver ring he wore at all times was missing. Ladybug darted away, heading towards the back of the building. He’d most likely left it in the ballroom or on the balcony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hooking her yo-yo around the tallest rampart that had not yet fallen in, she leapt up to the topmost intact floor and ran inside, tongues of fire flaring up everywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky charm!” An extinguisher appeared in her hands, and she used it to clear her way of fire, heading towards the ballroom. Her every step was hindered by fallen beams, lamps, hangings and ornaments half-charred and broken, and it took far too long to reach the bedroom. By then, her earrings were beeping. Four minutes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can do this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Throwing aside fallen chairs and tables, the heat of the fire at her back and front and climbing up the walls in greedy ecstasy, it was almost a miracle when she saw the faint gleam of silver lying where Félix had collapsed under the curtains. Ladybug snatched it up and ran for the doors. Was her suit fireproof? She was about to find out, because the doors were entirely blocked by a wall of flames. She took a deep breath and plunged through, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>burned. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her entire body was wracked with the searing heat, and her vision went white with agony, but she came out the other side. Her suit was blackened, and her face felt raw, but she was alive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Run, run. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran, towards the stairs, tripping and falling near the bottom, and when she was prostrate with the pain of falling, her earrings flashed a warning and she de-transformed, Marinette once again. Sparks landed on her dress, and she beat them out, crying out in panic. The doors were so close, and the walls were wavering, the heat making mirages out of everything. Overhead was an ominous creaking. The building was close to total collapse. She ran for the doors, and sobbed in frustration when the fire blocked her way. There were no other exits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette gritted her teeth, tears dripping down her cheeks and mingling with the ash and soot streaked on her face, and jumped through, trying to avoid the highest points of the fire. “Aah!” It still caught on her, and her dress was aflame and the soles of her feet were blackened and--she plunged through the doors and into the night air, the chill on her skin so, so wonderful because it meant that she had not caught fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette stumbled down the front stone steps of the hotel, her body aching and burning hot, and she couldn’t breathe and there was smoke clogging her throat and burning her eyes and every step hurt and just as the doorway collapsed behind her did she topple forward onto the grass, the silver ring clutched tight in her hand. Pain was flaring everywhere in her, and though she wanted nothing more than to pass out, her body would not let her fall victim to darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was moaning, a sustained inhuman sound that was fraught with pain, and she recognized that it was her. But it shouldn’t have been her. She was Ladybug. Ladybug didn’t get hurt, ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M--miraculous…” She couldn’t finish it, much less lift up her lucky charm to throw it. She couldn’t even get up, it hurt so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was someone lifting her up and cradling her, and she vaguely recognized the face going in and out of focus. Félix, his face twisted in pain. Was he hurt? Her lips opened, and she tried to speak, to ask him if he’d been hurt badly--then she remembered the ring, what she’d gone back in to get for him. He’d be happy about it, wouldn’t he? She let her fingers open to show him the ring, but he didn’t even look at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry!” He was sobbing, harsh, raw sounds ripping from his throat like every one hurt him, and tears were spilling from his eyes, dripping onto Marinette’s face and pooling on her cheeks. “It’s my fault!” Another guttural sob wrenched from his throat. “It’s all my fucking fault!”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wandavision fucked up my mental health so bad ough</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy fucking monday</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was two and a half weeks into the winter holidays, and Marinette was lying on a deck chair next to Chloé on the beach, the sun beating down on them and tall iced drinks with little parasols next to them in the sand, as well as an assortment of chips and snacks from the nearby grocery store. She had been in hospital for almost two weeks, unconscious for half that time, and after getting discharged, the doctor had recommended she go to the coast to clear her lungs. Chloé’s parents’ invitation had still stood, and she’d flown down to their beach house to spend the remainder of the winter holidays at their leisure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloé had been frantic with worry when Marinette first arrived, her voice hoarse with smoke and the occasional rattling cough, but that anxiousness had settled as Marinette got better steadily. Her voice was still raspy, and she still coughed harsh, hacking sounds from her lungs, but she wasn’t so fatigued and her skin wasn’t as raw and scorched. Her upper arms were still somewhat tender, and it hurt to put fabric over them, so Chloé had bought her a strapless sundress and bathing suit so that she didn’t have to cover up her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette took a sip of her drink as the waves, warm and gentle, splashed up against the shore, and her eyes closed as she dozed. Chloé was sipping her drink, giant sunglasses covering most of her face and a huge, wide-brimmed sunhat providing shade and protection from sunburn, or worse, freckles, a book of fashion history from the 1700s open on her lap as she flicked the pages with a French-manicured fingertip. The beach house, she’d told Marinette, was the only place where she could find her inner zen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping into sleep, Marinette’s thoughts lingered, once again, on the night of the party. After passing out, she obviously couldn’t remember any of what had happened next, but from the statements of the guests that had bore witness, she’d been able to piece together what had happened. Ladybug had left just as the first of the ambulances pulled up, and Marinette had stumbled out as the fire trucks came peeling into the hotel lawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix had run to an ambulance holding her and gone with her to the emergency room, and Chloé, who’d not been able to attend due to a photoshoot had ordered her driver to take her to the burning hotel. Out of sight of everyone else, she’d seen the fire extinguisher lying forgotten in the grass, and Tikki curled up next to it. She’d forcibly woken up the kwami and commanded her to repair the damages, which Tikki had done, reabsorbing the lucky charm, and then Chloé had tucked the earrings and the little ladybug god into her pocket and gone to the hospital, where Marinette had been in emergency care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s parents were there, and they were frantic with worry for their daughter. Chloé had told her, in the utmost confidence, that Félix had actually begged for their forgiveness for what had happened. Of course they hadn’t blamed him, but he still believed it was his fault. But he’d gotten his ring back in the end, so Marinette was relieved. But when Gabriel Agreste, who’d been one of the first ones to leave the building, which explained why Ladybug hadn’t seen him--he had been getting emergency services, had sent a car to fetch his grandson, Félix had refused to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He stayed in your room for three whole days, until the nurses forced him out,” Chloé had told her. “He really does care. I mean, he even slept in there, because he wanted to be there in case you woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette had pretended to be asleep, because it’d been late at night, but she’d pressed her tightly laced hands to her heart, and hadn’t stopped a smile from making its way across her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and after breakfast Chloé and Marinette grabbed racquets and balls and headed to the tennis courts. Chloé’s mother had taken her husband to the airport, because being the mayor meant he had to cut his vacation short so he could return to work, leaving the girls alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Chloé won three straight sets, both girls collapsed on the sun-baked asphalt of the court, the sun beating down on them. “I need something cold,” Chloé said. “Ice cream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice cream,” Marinette agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the freezer of the beach house’s spacious kitchen, there were several pints of ice cream of all flavours. Chloé filled a bowl with cappuccino and chocolate, and Marinette, having finished the strawberry ice cream the day before, filled a glass with vanilla ice cream and splashed in milk, stirring it into a milkshake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterwards, Chloé opted to stay inside where it was air-conditioned, citing possible heatstroke, but Marinette made her way down to the pool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled her pigtails loose and jumped in, the cool water a relief to her still-tender skin. Sinking to the bottom of the pool, she opened her eyes once she was cross-legged at the bottom. Her hair was floating in a dark blue-black cloud around her face, and the light lines made her vision ripple. She held her breath for as long as she could, until bubbles were streaming from her nose and through her sealed lips, and then resurfaced to take a deep gulp of air and dive back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something that’d been twinging at her thoughts since she’d come here for a vacation. When she’d gone home to pack her things after getting out of hospital and before going to the airport, she’d popped into Bridgette’s room, thinking maybe her phone was lost somewhere in there. When Marinette opened the door, she had the strangest feeling that something was different. After a few minutes of searching for the phone, she looked absentmindedly at the paintings and drawings tacked to the walls and saw it. The miniature of Bunnyx, which had been blurry and her expression anxious, was now clear as day. One eye was flattened in a wink, and she had a bright smile, two fingers held up in a salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette had figured it was her own panicked imagination that had made her distort the painting the first time she’d seen it, but after a while decided it had not. It was too strange for her to have just made up, which meant something had changed. Something important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But really, aside from the painting changing, not much else had happened that she knew of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had not been a single Akuma attack for the two and a half weeks since the disastrous end to the party, and she supposed she should be grateful for that. Perhaps Le Papillon realised he’d done wrong, for once. She had nearly died, the doctors had told her, and although her identity was still safe, Ladybug still a mystery, her condition had been made public to practically all of Paris. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered if Félix was still worried about her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From underwater, she heard Chloé shout her name, and she surfaced, flinging her hair out of her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette!” Chloé sounded unusually shrill as she ran towards her. Marinette climbed out of the pool, dripping, and grabbed her towel from the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This!” Chloé thrust her phone into Marinette’s face, the screen queued up to the news app, upon which was playing a live feed. “I just got a ton of alarms telling me to open the app right away, and so did my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the small screen, the reporter had just finished saying “Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news,” in her normal calm tone, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Urgent Report </span>
  </em>
  <span>alarm ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen belied her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attention, citizens of Paris. This is an emergency broadcast, coming live to all stations right now.” Nadja Chamak looked unusually serious, and was there a flicker of worry in her eyes? Marinette leaned in, as though it would allow her to see the reporter’s true expression. Chloé’s hand was trembling as she held the phone, and she was also drawing in a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Late last night, Félix Graham de Vanily was kidnapped from his family home, the Agreste mansion, by Le Papillon, who has sent a demand. He asks that Ladybug and Chat Noir hand over their Miraculouses, or Félix will die by sundown tonight.” Nadja cleared her throat and continued. “Gabriel Agreste has not been available for comment, but we have received video feed from Le Papillon, again, stating the importance of his demand. We go to the video now, so please stay tuned.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette and Chloé gasped as one upon hearing the reporter say that Félix had been kidnapped, Marinette jerking back in horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The camera cut away from Nadja, and to a slightly grainy video. The room was dark, and it appeared to be an observatory of sorts, with butterflies flapping around and a window open, letting a thin shaft of light cut across the floor, illuminating Félix, who’d been tied to a chair in the center of the room. There was a trickle of blood from a cut above his eyebrow, and his jacket was torn, his hair dishevelled, but he was alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do it,” he said as soon as the camera focused on him. “Don’t bother, I swear. Whatever you do, you can’t give up your Miraculous! Please don’t do anything stupid on behalf of me--’ The video feed cut out, but the audio kept rolling, enough for the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Milady--” </span>
  </em>
  <span>to come through, and then a blow, and he cried out. The audio cut. The screen went black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nadja’s expression was grave. “It is of the utmost importance that something be done. If anyone has any idea as to the whereabouts of Le Papillon’s hideout, or where he may be keeping Félix, please don’t hesitate to call this number immediately.” A phone number in bold red was depicted on the bottom of the screen, and the reporter continued, but Marinette was no longer listening. She turned, pacing up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?” asked Chloé. Marinette started for the stairs to the unit, Félix’s face still imprinted in her mind’s eye. The way he’d been speaking faster than normal, and the cry at the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FélixFélixFélixFélixFélixFélixFélixFélixFélixFélixFélix. Please be okay, please. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her shaking hands steadied, her resolve strengthened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good thing I brought the Miracle Box. I’m going to need to be Astro Bug, to get to Paris in time. And Chloé?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh?” The blonde waited for any instructions Marinette might give. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to need some help. Specifically, I’ll need Queen Bee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awesome!” Chloé cheered, before her face grew serious. “Save Félix. We got this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kudos, comments, anything you have to say? drop it in the comments :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marinette tore through her suitcase for the buried Miracle Box, and finding it, took out the Horse Miraculous for herself and the Bee Miraculous for Chloé. Pollen emerged, yawning, but upon seeing Chloé, brightened. “Queen Chloé! Are we going to be of service to Ladybug once again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bet,” Chloé said, beaming at her kwami. Marinette regretted not giving it to her sooner, but she’d been caught up in her own problems. From now on, she’d devote more time to her friend, after they got through today. “Pollen? Buzz on!” Chloé declared. The kwami swooped into the bee barrette she’d put in her hair, transforming her into the yellow-and-black themed Queen Bee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Horse Miraculous emerged from the glasses in Marinette’s hands, eyes wide. “Are you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glorious and famous? There’s not a whole lot of time, Kaalki, so just work with me,” Marinette said. “Kaalki, Tikki, unify!” The two kwamis combined, transforming her into Astrobug, and she opened a portal into the heart of Paris. “We’ll start by the Trocadero and search from there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Queen Bee said, shooting her a thumbs-up. Just then, her phone buzzed from the table, and she swiped it open--tens of dozens of Akuma alerts were flooding it. “What….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is it,” Astrobug said. “Le Papillon is serious. The last fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’ll be his last, not yours,” Queen Bee said confidently. “I’ll take care of the Akumas while you get Félix, and we’ll go from there.” She stepped through the portal, and Astrobug followed, taking a deep breath. It closed behind her, leaving behind every reservation she might have had about what she was about to do. There was no room for error. The clock was ticking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A light snow was falling when she stepped out into Paris, the portal closing. She took off the glasses and slid them away into an inner pocket of her suit, telling Kaalki and Tikki to divide as she did so, returning her to her regular Ladybug outfit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scene of panic greeted the two superheroes. Civilians were screaming and running from Akumatised villains of all sorts, and Ladybug ducked to avoid a beam of light shot from a villain with two laser blasters that shot through the wall of a nearby store, burning a wide hole in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen Bee pulled out her spinning top, cracking her knuckles and taking a defensive stance. “This’ll be a snap for me. Go find Félix and take out Le Papillon while I immobilize the Akumas here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?” Ladybug asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. Go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug heeded her, turning and running towards the Trocadero. Once on the rooftop of said building, she scanned the surrounding city for wherever Félix could possibly be. Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen, as well. He could have helped, she thought ruefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then a flash of white caught her eye. One lone butterfly was making its way, buffeted by gusts of wind and snowflakes, towards her. It glowed slightly, and she reached for it. One of Le Papillon’s butterflies. It landed on her hand and then flapped away, towards the south of town, flapping back and forth towards her and the direction it was headed. Almost as if…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to follow you?” Ladybug asked. The butterfly flapped faster as though in answer, and she wasted no time in following. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It led her all the way to the edge of the city, a collection of shops and houses, and there, in a building that looked nearly abandoned, it hovered, by the door which was slightly ajar as though in invitation. Once Ladybug put her hand on the doorknob, it flew away. A slight knot of apprehension formed in her stomach. It might be a trap. Le Papillon couldn’t possibly be trying to help her find Félix. No, more likely he would spring upon her in there and steal her Miraculous. But it was too great of a chance to waste, so she went inside, taking each light step with mounting trepidation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was dusty and badly lit, with boarded-up windows and broken glass littering the floor, and a rickety staircase leading to the upper floors. Ladybug put one foot on the staircase experimentally, and it creaked loudly and ominously. Carefully she climbed the stairs, each step creaking and cracking like it would fall through at any moment, and it was a relief when she reached the topmost floor, having seen nothing on any of the other floors but old furniture covered in dust cloths and dried moth corpses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door was locked, but she ripped the doorknob out with ease, and the door swung open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Félix was tied to a chair in the center of the room, dead white butterflies littered on the splintering floorboards around him, the observatory window that she’d seen on the video feed still open and illuminating him. His head was down, but when she came in he looked up, his eyes widening. “Félix,” she said in relief. “You’re here.” She ripped the gag from his mouth and the ropes from his hands and ankles, and the ones lashing him to the chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, milady.” Instead of looking relieved that help had arrived, Félix just looked annoyed. “I told you not to worry about me, and you still came? Le Papillon plans to get your Miraculous today. Not the time to be chasing after me, truly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug untied him, but then it occurred to her. “Wait, what did you just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix sighed. “I’m being as obvious as possible here. But I’ll just come out and say it. I’m Chat Noir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ladybug’s mouth popped open. “But Chat Noir’s ring--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was in my jacket pocket, which Le Papillon didn’t bother to check. He just tied me up.” Félix produced a silver ring, the one she’d gone back into the burning building for, from an inside pocket of his jacket and slid it onto his finger. At the same moment, it transformed from a thin silver band to a black anthracite ring with a cat’s head with emeralds for eyes. A small black shape materialised next to him, overly large green eyes and toothy smile. Ladybug had seen this kwami, when she’d inadvertently switched places with the other world’s Chat Noir. To drive in the final nail on her ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe I didn’t know who he was’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>coffin, Félix said “Plagg, claws out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir stood before her, sharp smile and black suit in order, his tail switching around his legs in a back and forth motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claws in.” Félix was standing before her, smoothing down his hair and his shirt as though he was wearing an elegant suit and not a torn, blood-spotted jacket. “I really was planning to make the reveal more dramatic, but it couldn’t be helped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug let out a scream and kicked him in the ankle. “You stupid jerk!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix--no, Chat, smirked. “So, do you completely hate me now that you know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, she was way too upset to hate him. Because it was Félix, Félix that had said he liked her, and---wait a minute, that meant that the other girl had been her, all along, so-- “I’m really, really upset! It had to be you, of all people? You!” She let out another frustrated shriek and kicked the chair he’d been tied to over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it because I’m...you know, Félix? Graham de Vanily? Would you have preferred someone else? Someone not as high-class and unfriendly as me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Ladybug exclaimed. “It’s not that--it’s just--you know, I feel like I should have figured this out a lot sooner, considering the one time Chat didn’t show up you were out of commission, and all those other times--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, I act very differently when it comes to being Chat Noir,” Félix allowed. “So it was pretty im-</span>
  <em>
    <span>paw</span>
  </em>
  <span>-sible you’d guess it was me.”</span>
</p><p><span>Ladybug punched him in the arm. “You let yourself get kidnapped! Do you know how worried I was?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Félix grinned. “I’m flattered, considering you didn’t even know I was Chat Noir. But we really should be going. Le Papillon awaits.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me where he would be. So that I’d tell Ladybug--you--to go there,” said Félix. “He planned on having it there. The final dispute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My grandfather’s office building. The Agreste building, downtown, near the Eiffel tower. On the roof, even. Like all those old spy movies where they had their final battle on the roof in the rain at nighttime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except it’s snowing and the middle of the day,” said Ladybug. </span>
</p><p><span>“We should go now,” Félix told her. “End this as soon as possible. Or do you want to avoid confrontation?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“It seems like he means us to come. And I don’t know what he’ll do if we don’t. Queen Bee is already fighting all the Akumas he placed throughout the city. The least we can do is end this and help her out,” Ladybug said.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s go.” Félix transformed once more, Chat Noir again, and they exited the building through the observatory window which was open just enough for them to leap through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took only minutes for them to make their way downtown, only minutes to reach the Agreste building which was on the horizon, lit by the midafternoon sunlight that turned the glass windows covering all sides of the building a glossy orange, reflecting into the streets below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the building, which was strangely empty, both superheroes stared up at the roof, as though somehow they would see their enemy atop it, twenty floors above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we really do this?” Ladybug bit her lip. “Is this going to end badly for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be easy,” Chat said with that irritating confidence, the one that had drawn her to him. “We get up to the roof, we get rid of him, and then we get a medal and a vacation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you so certain of us? That we can do this?” Ladybug asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same way I’m certain I’d never give up on you, milady. Nor you me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix took her face in his hands and kissed her, so suddenly she nearly gasped, and then her eyes slid shut and she kissed him back, his hands framing her face, keeping her mouth on his. Ladybug’s hands were on his shirt, her fingers curled into the fabric, holding on like he was the only thing left, and for a minute, he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He coaxed her lips apart, the tip of his tongue grazing hers and the nip of his teeth on her bottom lip, and she didn’t even want to breathe, too afraid to ruin the moment, this here and now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she broke away from him, all of a sudden it seemed so stupid to not have told him. “I lo--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed a finger to her lips. “I promise I’ll always be here for you, milady. But tell me that later. When we win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll tell you then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat took her hand, and they entered the Agreste building together, heading towards the bank of elevators just behind the lobby, all glass buttons and polished metal doors.. Neither spoke as they rode up floor after floor, the elevator releasing them on the final floor with a happy </span>
  <em>
    <span>bing! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There were the glass doors just up ahead, and beyond that, the rooftop, where through the tinted glass they could see a figure, standing at the edge of the rooftop looking over the rimless edge, no railing to hold anyone back. Almost as though he was going to step over the edge and into nothingness, although both knew that would not happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m ready.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They burst onto the rooftop, the door slamming shut behind them, and next to her, she heard Chat draw in a sharp breath as he stopped in his tracks. Standing with his back to them, his hands tucked behind his back as if he had all the time in the world, was Gabriel Agreste.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He turned to them, his expression blank. “So we meet, finally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M. Agreste?” Ladybug said in wonderment. </span>
</p><p><span>“Grandfather,” Chat Noir said. His tone belied nothing, although Marinette could feel him shaking. Horror and pain was splashed across his features. “You’re…”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Le Papillon. That’s correct.” Gabriel’s eyes fell on him. “But why did you call me…Ah.” He chuckled, although there was no humor in the sound. “I should have guessed. My own grandson was Chat Noir, the very person I have tried so hard to kill.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“There’s no way,” Chat said, his tone disbelieving. “I-it’s impossible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was very possible.” Gabriel snapped his fingers, and a small kwami floated out of his suitcoat pocket. “Nooroo, dark wings rise.” The kwami obliged, and he transformed into Le Papillon. “You see. Everything is in order at last. The only thing I require now are your Miraculouses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you’re Le Papillon--” Félix shook his head, still not believing. Still shocked. “Then how could you say I was at fault? When my parents died, you said it was because of me. I was never the evil one. You were. You lied to me all this time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It couldn’t have been a lie if you believed it so wholeheartedly,” Le Papillon said. As though it was totally rational. As though it made sense, what he was saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened, then?” challenged Félix. “If it was never my fault that I’d been cursed with enough bad luck to kill them, what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would like the truth?” Le Papillon extended his hands, his arms outstretched as if to take in the world. “I was the one that killed your parents. Yes, all very dramatic, all very sad. I regretted it every day.” He was speaking not to Félix, but almost to himself, as though he was alone. “My Émilie died because of me, and I tried every day to bring her back. But I could not, not without the Miraculouses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You monster!” Chat Noir charged at him, and Le Papillon held up a hand. He stopped in his tracks. “No, don’t attack me. You don’t want to do that, do you? After all, we are family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chaton, he’s manipulating you,” Ladybug warned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that.” But Chat Noir looked hesitant even so, and there was tension evident in every twitch of his tail, the set of his jaw and the drop of his lids. A caged animal ready to spring. “I know,” he said again, and there was a growl in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to destroy me?” Le Papillon chuckled, amused. “That would be futile. All I want is your Miraculous. No one has to die today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t give it to you,” said Chat. “You could have serious consequences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not true. All I am doing is bringing my daughter, your mother, back. How could that be so wrong?” Le Papillon looked genuinely puzzled at the fact that it could be anything but destructive. “You want her back, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I want anymore!” Félix lashed out, claws extended, and Le Papillon stepped back to avoid the blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky charm!” Ladybug shouted, and a box dropped into her hands. Small, square, the same as the Miraculous boxes that she used when giving them out when she needed allies. Once before, she had seen this same box, on Heroes’ Day, when Hawk Moth had first shown himself to them. But Le Papillon, she could tell, would not hesitate as much as Félix’s grandfather. This world’s Gabriel Agreste was harsher, colder, and he had much more to lose. She outstretched her hands anyway. “Le Papillon!” He turned towards her, lip curled in a sneer. </span>
</p><p><span>“How will a box help you against me?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“It doesn’t need to.” Ladybug held it towards him. “You don’t have to fight us. Not Félix, not me. Instead, you could put your Miraculous in here and walk away. No one has to get hurt. We don’t have to fight.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong.” His staff snapped towards her, and she jumped back, but he hadn’t been intending to hit her. The staff connected with the box, sending it spiralling over the edge of the rooftop and to the ground so far below, where it would undoubtedly shatter. “This is no longer about what I will or will not do. If you choose not to fight, you will die. And your Miraculous will be mine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hasn’t it been awhile since we’ve begun this fight? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What are we doing all of this for? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does any of it matter?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t always been this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, once upon a time there had been some happiness in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wife had died only two years after their being married, leaving behind a small daughter, all blond curls and green eyes, laughing and good-hearted, good-spirited, sweet. The only thing he had left, and Gabriel devoted every waking moment to his dear Émilie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she grew, as all children do, but she never grew out of her dream to do some good in the world. To be precise, she’d searched for the answer, the cure to the sickness that infests the hearts of man and sows discord among humanity, starts wars and famines and crime and evil. She’d wanted, as all children did at one time, to be a hero. Something better than human--a superhero. Because who better to bring change than a hero?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d found, whilst travelling in Spain, an old book written in Latin, and within this book were drawings, mere pencilled sketches of fantastical humans with godlike powers and unparalleled strength, speed, agility. Their powers, the book said, came from a box that the gods had bequeathed the first humans, a box of miracles. Items that gifted the wearers the power to transcend mortal reaches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The box had turned up in Italy, deep in the catacombs, and he had brought it back to Paris after extensive research, intending to give it to Émilie and let her take on the powers the items would grant her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he returned she had fallen in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And not even of anyone with a high status, no, this man had no connections, an orphan since the age of two, and worse, he was a musician. A pianist with aspirations only to perform for the masses. And Émilie had played alongside him, and now she wished to marry him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found this out the day he returned to Paris, and called his daughter into the parlor for tea and a reunion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Émilie,” Gabriel said with a smile as his daughter, wearing a long green dress and her hair pulled back in a braid with a large bow, making her look much younger than her twenty-five years, entered the room. “It has been far too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it has.” His daughter looked uncharacteristically nervous, a far cry from her normal serene calmness. “There is something I must tell you, Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course.” Gabriel beckoned her to the chair opposite him. “Have some tea first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Father. What I have to say cannot wait.” Émilie took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to his. “I got married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel stiffened. “You...what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very sorry, but we love each other,” Émilie said as tears sprang to her eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he’s marrying me for my money. I love him no matter what, and I want to be happy. Please understand that, Father.” Her eyes were pleading with him to accept her decision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot believe you would go behind me and do this. I am your father,” Gabriel said quietly. “But...you have made your decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ll accept the marriage?” Émilie beamed, eyes watering in joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not say that.” Gabriel turned away from her. “Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of this house. I no longer want to see you. Be happy with your husband, but you are no longer my daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father!” Émilie protested, but he was unrelenting. The once-happy tears in her eyes spilled over as her father turned from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have said what I must. Now you will do what you must.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closed behind her. She hadn’t said a word, only left. Gabriel sank into his chair and closed his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My daughter, you don’t understand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Had she not made this choice, she would have been able to be the holder of the Peacock Miraculous. His dear Émilie would have been able to do what she had most wanted--to defend her city from crime, from the petty robberies that distressed her so much, to the murders and homicides. He would have been happy watching her fulfil her fondest wish, the wish she had kept in her heart from childhood on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she threw it away,” he said aloud. So he must guard the Miraculouses carefully, that they might not fall into the wrong hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had he followed Émilie out, he would have known what he had not at that time. He would have seen his daughter enter his room and open the safe that he had placed behind the oil portrait of herself. He would have seen her take the ornate box that contained the Miraculouses and open it, taking one at random and slipping it into her pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he would have seen her exit the building and throw the box into the river, where it would sink below the water and submerge into the silt and murkiness of the bottom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it was, he did not realize for several days, until he next opened the safe and found it empty. The only things in it were a dusty book, and in the corner of the safe, hidden by shadows; a dented and dusty pin in the shape of a butterfly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the rooftop of the Agreste building, three people were trading blows so fast any mortal eye would have flinched away. Two blurs, one red and one black, were circling a third, except the third figure was deflecting them just as fast as they came at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Le Papillon was fighting both of them at once, so handily it looked nearly impossible for him to be dueling with such ease, except that Chat Noir wasn’t attacking with his full force. Ladybug couldn’t blame him--she could never have fought a family member, not even with the realisation that they had never loved her all along. The lucky charm was long gone, shattered on the sidewalk down below, and Ladybug was almost out of time before she would transform back. They had to finish this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No longer was Le Papillon acting as though he merely wanted to retrieve their Miraculouses--he was aiming for their deaths as well. Ladybug had no plans to die today. There was still so much she had to do, had to tell Félix, because he still didn’t even know her true identity, and there was also the small matter that he had liked her all along. But maybe this wasn’t the right time to think about this, especially since she was diving and dodging from the blows coming her way, each one barely missing her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands found purchase on the staff as it narrowly missed her head, and she held on as Le Papillon tried to shake her off. She couldn’t let go, or he would bash her brains in. If only she hadn’t wasted her lucky charm those four minutes ago. It seemed an eternity had passed since she had summoned it, but in reality she had only been fighting Le Papillon for coming up on five minutes now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her earrings were flashing madly, timing out, beeping in sync with her own frantic heartbeat as she grappled with Le Papillon atop the roof of the Agreste building. His lips were twisted in a snarl, and his eyes were those of a corpse--flat and already dead, with no indication that he knew what he was doing. With a quick blow, he swung his staff at her, and she ducked to avoid the blow that would have bashed into her skull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Grandfather!” Chat Noir held his hands up in supplication, pleading for Gabriel--no, Le Papillon, to stop. “You can’t bring her back! Do you have any idea what consequences it might have on reality as we know it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be stupid, boy,” Le Papillon spat, turning towards him, Ladybug forgotten for the moment. “There is no greater reality than the one I will create!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir looked heartbroken. “I won’t hurt you. Just like you would never do that to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’re a fool.” Le Papillon slammed his staff into Chat Noir’s stomach, and he flew backwards. He hadn’t even tried to get out of the way, believing so firmly that family, his family, would never hurt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned as he slammed into the roof with a sickening thud, and Le Papillon’s face twisted into a masklike grimace. “I told you to obey me, but after all you really are worthless. It should have been you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug grabbed the staff, and Le Papillon twisted her wrist backwards, so that she was forced to loosen her hold on the staff, and he threw her aside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stay out of this.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over Chat again, that twisted death mask of a smile still on his face. Murderous. Murderer. Chat Noir stared steadily back at him, unmoving. Not trying to save himself. Just staring into his grandfather’s eyes, seeing the terrible resolve “Chat!” He didn’t appear to hear her cry. “Stop this!” she screamed. “This isn’t right!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Le Papillon raised his staff to deliver the final blow, one that most likely would collapse Chat Noir’s ribs, killing him instantly, and Ladybug, pain ratcheting through her body as she struggled to stand, threw herself at him. Le Papillon grunted as she slammed into him, and Chat Noir rolled away as the staff slammed down where he had just been. “Milady, move!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swung his hand forwards, yelling “Cataclysm!” and Le Papillon had only a moment to look shocked before Chat Noir’s hand met his chest full force, the corrosion forming a black handprint on his chest. He began to crumble, bits of his costume and mask turning ash-gray, his expression venomous. Ladybug panted as she backed away, her entire body shaking. Snow was beginning to fall, mixing with the ashes floating into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not the end,” Le Papillon snarled, and just before he turned entirely to ash and corroded rust and crumbled, his hand shot out, striking Ladybug in the collarbone and sending her off the crumbled edge of the rooftop. She saw him disintegrate as she toppled off the rooftop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir’s eyes met hers at that moment that she stepped away from the ledge as though it had been her plan all along. “Let’s meet again,” she said suddenly. His green eyes were wide, horror in them. Félix’s eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m glad I could fall in love with you. I’m glad you are here. It wouldn’t hurt so much if you weren’t, but I’m glad. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all so strange, suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely she could not be falling, her feet kicking out and meeting nothing but air, the wind whistling in her ears. Snow could not be falling with her, the flakes floating down as she plunged to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milady!” Chat was holding out his hands, panic and fear etched into his features, and she reached up. Already too far to even touch his fingers, which could have closed on her wrist and pulled her away from the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to move her fingers, to grab onto an edge somewhere, to stop herself, but her hand only twitched in a mockery of a wave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ground was rushing up, the cars in the street bigger now, ants no longer. The toy people were shooting up, their shock and horror now visible to her as she fell towards them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to fall, knowing that she would hit the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to be so painfully alive right now, when the seconds were slipping out of her reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to realise that there was no way Ladybug could get out of this one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From a long way off she heard Félix scream “No!”, a long, painful scream, and she almost smiled. The last vestiges of power left her earrings, and her mask dissolved, returning her back to her civilian clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Marinette hit the ground, hitting with such force that a crater formed in the street around her body, fractures of asphalt and cobblestone splintering out in a radial wave for blocks around, and pain gripped her, such intense pain her head was splitting and her blood was on fire and her bones were splintering and everything was mercifully, finally, going black.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. what must be done</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapter notes are for cowards</p><p>mm well a double update never let it be said that I'm unkind --ailie, who wrote this whole chapter because lalie is burned out from the last five chapters of Pain and Angst</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The wave that washed over her was supposed to bring her the relief of eternal sleep, but instead, it brought pain like fire. Every single part of her body ached like she had been run through a cement mixer, and the harp music that she was supposed to be hearing by this point was screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screaming, sirens, and sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Burrow.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She felt, rather than heard, the command, and a whiteness enveloped her, her body so light it felt like she could wake up and simply float away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until she actually woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head was pounding, and her temples felt like they’d been stuffed with cotton. Paper crackled under her as she hoisted herself up with one elbow, confused. She was lying on a thin cot covered with doctor’s paper, her head supported by a small pillow. The walls were sterilised white, the room smelling of lemon and antiseptic. The desk next to her had a computer set up, and a name plate. She recognised that name--it was the nurse from school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this wasn’t the private school, the one that she’d been attending for the past month. She wasn’t wearing the pressed white shirt and plaid skirt she had come to like; instead, she was wearing some kind of strange black band tank top with a snarling cat on the front, layered over another tank top, this one red. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who </span>
  </em>
  <span>picked</span>
  <em>
    <span> this outfit?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, wrinkling her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But wait. If it wasn’t Francoise Dupont Prep...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Francois Dupont High.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or had she never left? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, Marinette sat up fully and saw her phone lying on the cot next to her. The display read March 12th, 8:47 AM. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>March? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hadn’t it been February just yesterday? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had happened yesterday?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head was pounding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a familiar redhead stepped into the room, phone charms clinking, it came back to her in a rush that left her unable to move, so struck with the suddenness of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Félix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had definitely died on impact. Or if not died, then was at the stage nearest to it. There was no more pain, and she could move all her limbs, and her earrings were still intact. So why was she okay, if she remembered falling and dying?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, girl,” Alya said cheerfully, coming over to where she was. “The nurse went to call your parents from the office, since the phone in here isn’t working. Did you just now wake up?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Alya?” Marinette could hardly breathe for the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes. What was this? Her friend, who she hadn’t seen in a bit over a month, because she had not been in the other world, was here, like she’d always been here and Marinette just hadn’t noticed.</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Who else would I be?” her friend said with a smile, thinking Marinette was joking. “Did you hit your head harder than we thought?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Hit my head?” Marinette repeated without really thinking. “But I...I fell off the roof.” Yes, that was it. The rooftop of the Agreste office building, where she and Félix had killed Le Papillon. At that, she outright panicked. “Le Papillon! We killed him! And where’s Félix?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Le Papillon?” Alya tilted her head quizzically. “Who’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawk Moth,” Marinette said. “We...killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl…” Alya laughed. “Don’t tell me you had a dream that you were Ladybug! And no, Hawk Moth is still alive and well...unfortunately.” She sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m getting really tired of those Akumas, though. Listen, I better go see where the nurse is. You might be worse than we thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Félix!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marinette insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know any Félix,” Alya told her. “Unless you count that Satan incarnate of a cousin Adrien has. Speaking of Adrien, I should go tell him you’re okay. He must be so worried.” She winked.</span>
</p><p><span>“Alya!” Marinette grabbed her hand. “What happened to me?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“You don’t remember?” Alya asked. “We were in gym and Kim accidentally hit you in the face with a dodgeball. You were standing behind Alix, and she dived out of the way, and you got hit and just collapsed. Adrien carried you to the nurse’s office, which was a crime that you weren’t awake for it.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“I...got hit by a ball?” Nothing seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She knew she’d killed Le Papillon. She knew he’d shoved her off the roof. She knew she’d died. So how could it just have been a simple hit to the head?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Alya left, promising to get Adrien and the nurse, Marinette sank back down on the cot. Some god must be laughing at her right now, she thought. Some sick divine trick at her expense that had ripped her out of this world a month and a half ago and forced her into another, and just when she had belonged in that other world was she snapped back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was not possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she was here then where was her other self? They should both be here, since she’d died in the other world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tikki…” Marinette barely said it louder than a breath but the kwami came to her from wherever she’d been hiding while Alya was here, floating just at her eyeline. Her antennae were drooping, and her large eyes were dull and shineless. She looked as miserable as Marinette felt. “Tikki, what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kwami looked subdued. “You died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I did,” Marinette said. “But then why am I here? Is this heaven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. This is the old world, the one you were taken from,” answered Tikki. “Here, you are alive. I don’t know why. Your souls must have switched on the moment of impact.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But--how? This can’t be right. I have to be dead. I was dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. But you’re not dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So….so I’m back, then?” Marinette dropped her head into her hands. Tears were leaking from her eyes now and pooling in her palms. “But that means if our souls switched back...what if I killed the other me? When I fell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki closed her eyes, and after a long moment spoke. “No...I can feel her soul. It’s still in her body, but weak. She’s close to moving on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to move on!” Marinette wept. “I want to go back right now--we have to switch back so she can live on here and I can be happy there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t this seem counterproductive?” Tikki asked. “You were so adamant about getting back here, and now you want to do the opposite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I changed my mind! I want to be there,” Marinette told her. “I was happy there. I don’t know if I can be happy here, knowing that I had everything I wanted in the other life. I had the same parents. I had a best friend still. I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>Félix</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Surely she could go back? She’d done it once, hadn’t she? Yes. There must be some way….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as she spoke, though, she could almost hear the click-clacking of the wheels of fate turning once more, slowly winding back to where they had originally been, steadily but surely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Marinette whispered. She stared at her arms, her hands, the ones burned so raw and red by the flames she had dashed through to receive Felix’s ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>miraculous.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And if, in the other life...Felix was Chat Noir, and Gabriel was Le Papillon, did that mean that in this life…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But Gabriel was akumatized into the Collector, and Adrien almost fell off that building, and Chat Noir was there with me at the time and…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He isn’t Chat Noir,” Marinette murmured, half in a dream. Tikki blinked blue eyes, floating next to her shoulder as Marinette fisted the blankets between her fingers, winding and unwinding. Her thoughts were a swirling tangle of sharp shock and sadness. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Adrien can’t possibly be Chat Noir but am I still in love with him but what about Luka and what about Kagami and what about</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix, who right now, was probably mourning the body that she had left behind. The body she </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tikki, I would never have jumped if I’d known…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sob tore itself from her throat as Marinette leaned forward, crushing her face into the antiseptic sheets, crying like her heart was breaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the world she never thought she would see again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This world that didn’t seem to belong to her anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world she’d left behind, and the shattered pieces she’d left behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a life that she had never meant to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was supposed to be me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s tears dried up. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Her eyes were blank and dulled. “It should have been me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock on the door roused her from the reverie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She coughed to clear her throat, calling for whoever it was to enter. The door swung open tentatively, and in peeked a blonde boy with green eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes wide and innocent and trusting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Felix’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrien’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette? You okay? Mme. Bustier gave me permission to walk you home, since you live just down the street. I would call Luka, but you guys have been weird the last few days and...well...I know I’m the last person you want to see, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.” Marinette shrugged limply. “I don’t care anymore.” She lifted a hand to her head, expecting to feel the comforting reassurance of smooth hair tied into pigtails…</span>
</p><p><span>And found, for the first time, that the other Marinette clearly had not set any boundaries regarding the appearance of her new body, because a red headband tied at the top held back choppy spikes of blue hair. Her twin tails were gone.</span> <span>“W...what?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Adrien blinked at her. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice came out hysterically loud, cracking on the last syllable. “What the hell happened to my </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Adrien opened his mouth to speak again, but she was beyond hearing him. Sluggishly, like she was moving through a thick jelly, she untwisted the blankets from around her legs and got up from the bed, stumbling on shaky legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be m--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Just let me be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrien swallowed hard and stepped back, watching as Marinette teetered on her feet, regaining her balance. When she had finally found her feet, she looked around the nurse’s office. “Where are my shoes?” Nowhere on the floor did she see the shiny black ballet flats she was so used to. The only shoes on the floor were a pair of enormous black Doc Martens covered in silver spikes. She stifled a groan. “Don’t tell me…”</span>
</p><p><span>It seemed that the old Marinette was into fashion too. An entirely new kind of fashion. Grimly, she pulled them on, tying the thick silver laces into a neat bow before clomping awkwardly out. These boots were </span><em><span>heavy.</span></em> <span>And not at all her style. But all the same...it was markedly different to be standing 160 cm instead of 152. She felt almost powerful, striding down the hall in clothes so different from the ones she had worn all last year. Pinks and soft grays and whites were gone, replaced with shades of deep red, black, and silver. </span></p><p>
  <span>The front doors of Francois Dupont opened for her, and she went out into the bright sunlight, regretting that she had survived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her bag, Tikki sat curled patiently waiting. “Tikki, while I was asleep, did you hear if they called my parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Tikki said brightly. “They seemed to think that you’d just go home and sleep it off; come back tomorrow. You live so close it’s really a waste to call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette smiled. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” According to the time on her phone, she had one and a half hours before her parents would even begin to expect her home. Plenty of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A note of wariness entered Tikki’s chirpy voice. “Marinette, what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of answering her, Marinette picked up the walking pace, breaking into a jog as she headed for the autobus stop. “What needs to be done.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>pancake night tonight lads!!! <br/>*slathers u in syrup*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Diary Entries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>questions answered-- a problem posed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small woman occupying the flat where Master Fu used to reside shook her head. “I’m sorry. There never was anyone by that name living here. The previous occupant was an acupuncturist.” Marinette seized on that, frantic. “That must have been him! Can you tell me where he went?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman shook her head, her hazel eyes solemn. “I heard he had a stroke...I don’t know what’s become of him. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> young lady, but you’re going to have to leave.” She shut the door hard in Marinette’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tikki?” Marinette whispered, pulling open the purse. “What...what happened to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you should find out for yourself,” the kwami said, her large eyes unusually teary. “He passed on ownership of the Miracle Box to you, or the you that the other Marinette occupied. You’re the Guardian now--you have been for the last two weeks. If I remember correctly, the box is under the loose floorboard in your room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette was already running. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home I need to get home find the box find the Miraculous need to get home need to--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell jangled violently as she burst through the door of the patisserie, and Sabine looked up, startled. “Marinette? You’re home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--they sent me home early. I got hit in the head in gym class,” Marinette said. “I should go lie down--not feeling...well…” She dived past her flabbergasted mother and made for the stairs, clutching her purse to her side. Her mother sighed and shook her head, returning to the dough she was rolling out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom, have you noticed something off about Marinette? Not just today, but the last few weeks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her husband appeared, hands and apron covered in flour. “No, but I thought it was nice. She’s finally growing up. And she’s not nearly as clumsy as she used to be.” Sabine laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Growing pains…maybe that’s all it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bakery was warm and toasty, and two people, at least, were happy, as they moved in the patterns that time and routine had set for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upstairs, things were different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prying up the floorboards, Marinette bit her lip, almost afraid of what she might see. When the dust settled, there were two items in the cavity. One, a black lacquered box, red patterns carved into the lid. The Miracle Box. And two, a journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed the other Marinette had kept a diary here as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting the box aside, she flipped open the journal, heart in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day One.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not sure where I am, or who I am exactly. I look almost the same. Tikki assures me that everything is okay, and I seem to be some sort of alternate universe version of myself. It’s unnerving, but this new world is--well, it’s nice. These parents actually want to know how my day was for the first time in aeons, and I get to go to school. PUBLIC SCHOOL. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Imagine that. No uniforms. I can wear whatever I want, whenever I want. Hell, I could wear a minidress to school. (Probably.) Chloé would laugh her ass off if she saw me, getting excited over </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>clothes</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other Marinette was apparently an aspiring fashion designer, and while that’s very nice and all, her designs are boring. Her whole closet is pink, pink, pink. So I asked (her) mom to take me shopping, and I bought some stuff that was actually to my taste.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope she doesn’t mind that I used her allowance to pay for it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Two.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is an approximate rendition of how my conversation with Chloé went today.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hi, Chloé.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ew, Dupain-Cheng. What are you even wearing?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bye, Chloé.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Apparently, the Chloé of this world is even more of a bitch than in my world. At least in my original world, she was nice to me. Now she’s just plain mean. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Other Marinette has a different best friend, too. Her name is Alya. She’s nice, but that’s about it. She runs something called the Ladyblog, which seems to be a website entirely dedicated to exposing my identity. Seems problematic, but whatever. Anyway, I sat with her at school, and what I saw disgusted me. This entire classroom worships Lila, that lying snake, and she’s even more popular here than there. I tried talking to Alya about it, but she basically told me to stop trying to expose her. Does that mean Other Marinette knows the truth about her? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If she does, then this Alya is a shitty friend. Chloé would never just ignore me trying to tell the truth about someone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Actually, that gives me an idea. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My Chloé hated Lila with all her heart. If they really are the same, then I know that </span>
  </em>
  <span>this</span>
  <em>
    <span> Chloé will too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Three.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll write down everything from memory as closely as I can, to give an accurate picture of the events happening. It just occurred to me that if I ever get back to my real body, the other Marinette probably will be confused as to what the heck was going on while I was in hers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette rubbed her eyes, thinking guiltily of everything she’d done and left no record of for the Other Marinette.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does it matter?</span>
  </em>
  <span> a small voice hissed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s dead. You killed her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” she whispered. Tikki looked at her, alarmed. “Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette forced a smile. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was right on time for school. Got to my locker, started putting my things away, and then Adrien? came up to me and started talking. Something about a photoshoot he was at over the weekend, and then about some game called Ultimate Mecha Strike. I just nodded and smiled best I could and tried to make it seem like I knew what he was talking about. He seemed sort of worried. Apparently, I’m not doing a good enough job of pretending to be this world’s Marinette. Oh, well. After that, Alya came up to me and started squealing about what a good job I was doing, talking to him like a normal person. (???) </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then it kind of clicked. His face was familiar--not just because he was this world’s Félix, but because Other Me had his photo plastered all over her walls. Ew. I’m taking those down as soon as I finish writing this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette blinked around at her room. She’d run up here so quickly, she never had time to notice the changes. The pictures of Adrien were gone, replaced by a fashion inspiration board comprised of swatches of fabrics and rough sketches of outfits. One of her walls was marred by an enormous swath of black paint, like someone had dragged a huge brush straight down. Oddly, it looked good--great, even--against the cherry-blossom pink of the walls. Marinette returned to the diary, more curious than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously, I told her to eff off. She started blinking really fast and asked if this was about the Lila thing again. She might be an idiot, but she’s not stupid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She just...left after that, and I finished putting my stuff away. That’s when Chloé accosted me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was that true? What you said to Cesaire.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Yes.” That red-headed lemming who was with her on day one and two was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s...Sabrina?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chloé laughed, kind of bitterly, I thought. “She abandoned me, of course. Survival of the fittest. Now that I’m no longer Queen Bee, no one likes me anymore. Not like I’ve ever given them a reason to, of course.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So Other Marinette designated this Chloé Queen Bee as well. Some things do line up, I guess. Some memories are returning, but so far, no helpful ones. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chloé, I know we haven’t always gotten along--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Understatement.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We don’t have to be friends, but can we be allies? I just lost my best friend, and you just lost your best...henchman?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You want to team up?” Her eyes were sparkling, a little like the old Chloé when she had a plot in mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want to make Lila Rossi regret being born.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The whole class stared at us when we walked in together, but I didn’t care. Alya was sitting next to Nino and Adrien, the second row empty, and the redhead was next to Lila, laughing at whatever shitty joke she just made. I slid in next to Chloé, and it’s fair to say their eyes popped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is just the beginning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Eight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chat Noir in this world is a lot less annoying, that’s all I’ll say.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like, he actually doesn’t make me want to hit him. And his jokes are actually funny. I don’t see how Other Marinette could keep turning him down for that boring-vanilla loser, no matter how good of a model he is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We sort of...had a moment? During patrol the other night. But I can’t...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss Félix. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My head hurts. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Ten. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I ever really love Félix, or did I love what he represented to me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Twelve. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a boy named Luka, who is apparently a lot overly friendly to Marinette. She designed the outfits for his band, Kitty Section, which is a cool name, but the outfits are lame as hell. He seemed surprised when I offered to redesign them, but he accepted, on the condition that we hang out tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Thirteen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I invited Chloé to the cafe with Luka. He wasn’t expecting it at first, but they got on like wildfire.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Fourteen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I lost the bet from Chloé. I asked Luka point-blank if he liked me, and he said no. We’re going to the hair salon today. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wants a teal streak, for some reason. And I have to get my hair done however she says.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Day Eighteen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t miss home anymore. I feel like a traitor, and I feel like a mess. But...I’m happy. I have parents who love me and a  friend who’s on my side. It’s almost better, honestly, because I have Chloé all to myself. Except for when she hangs out with Luka, but that’s okay. That’s great. I’m happy for them, but my heart hurts every time I see them together, because it reminds me of what I wanted to have with Félix one day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I could have that with Chat?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We...got ice cream. After the akuma attack the other day, we fed our kwamis and then suited up again, and we just went to Andre’s and sat on the bench for an hour or so. Just talking. He wants to have a house in the south, with three kids and a hamster. I’m not sold on the hamster, but I think if I had a kid, it would be a girl, and I would name it Bridgette, after my sister. I hope she’s doing well. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I suggested a cat, and he nixed that immediately. In the dream scenario, the cat we have is Plagg, his kwami. That made me laugh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In my dream scenario, we know each other’s identities, and we’re happy together, and I don’t worry about abandoning my old life. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I abandoning it? The other Marinette is probably enjoying it. Enjoying my life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I feel selfish for hoping that she is. Because maybe if she’s happy, she won’t want to reverse the circumstances that brought us here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could stay like this for the rest of my life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I never want to leave, and I hate myself a little for that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But when I look at my life, when I look at everything I’ve lost and everything I’ve found...I would choose to stay. Despite everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marinette closed the journal, eyes damp. “So she felt the same as me.” She sniffled. “I don’t know anymore, Tikki. You can’t change the past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you?” Tikki’s eyes were sparkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s mouth fell open as she recalled. The painting. Blurry, winking, smiling, afraid. The painting that changed, depending on the person who was in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t change the past.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But Bunnyx can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have to go right now. Tikki, spots on!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of pink later, Ladybug was vaulting through the air, to the place where she knew Bunnyx would invariably find her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I go to the spot where Bridgette snapped that photo, there’s a chance she may see me there as she steps into her Burrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>People exclaimed as Ladybug swung through the air, snapping pictures and waving hands, but she ignored it all. This was Paris, but not her Paris anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She came to a sudden, lowering halt, and slammed down on the floor. The flocking crowds parted, agape.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of white, just a spark, but enough. Ladybug stood her ground as the Burrow opened and Bunnyx stepped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know why you’re here,” Bunnyx said. “And I can’t help you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*dun dun DUNNNNNNNN*<br/>will it happen?? WILL IT?????</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Picking Up The Pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>just go ahead and tear my heart from my chest why don't you</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Thirty minutes previously.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette flipped the pages of the diary as she shut it. Empty, empty, empty...writing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the very last page, small, cramped handwriting filled the lower half of the page in faint lettering, like it had been half erased. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts. It hurts so much. I miss home. I miss Mom. I miss Dad. I miss Chloé, real Chloé. And I miss Félix. I thought if I didn’t think--if I didn’t remember them, it would be okay. This world is amazing. I feel like a different person here. But that’s the problem. I don’t want to be someone else. I want to be me, the real me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to go home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to go home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to go home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you want to return,” Bunnyx called, sinking into a crouch. Ladybug mirrored her stance, raising her fists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t try to stop me,” Ladybug said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face hardened into a frown, and with a yell, she leapt at the blue and white-clad hero, arms raised. Bunnyx swatted her away, and Ladybug rolled into a crouch, springing up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m fast. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But she’s faster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up just in time to see Bunnyx soar over her head, landing with an enormous bang behind her. Ladybug whirled--just as the redhead dashed at her, pinning Ladybug’s arms behind her back. “Ugh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd was a distant memory, most screaming and scattering. An intrepid few stayed behind to film the battle between two illustrious heroes, now at each other’s throats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladybug struggled hard as Bunnyx's grip grew tighter, cutting off her airway, and with an enormous burst of energy, she slammed her head back into Bunnyx’s nose with a crunch, and the elder girl gave way with a huff, falling down. Ladybug turned on her heel with a grin. Bunnyx was bleeding freely, sluggishly climbing to her feet, and Ladybug lunged--hands almost on the Miraculous, but was punched again. She slammed into the side of a building and slid down, groaning. Distantly, she felt a crackling and knew one of her ribs was bruised, if not fractured. “Give me...your Miraculous!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anh-anh-anh,” Bunnyx cooed, waving a teasing finger. Though her lip was swelling, she managed to keep her voice cool and mocking. “You won’t get this from me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Burrow.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The portal opened, and Marinette gasped as her last chance departed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! I just want to go back and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bunnyx shook her head. “It’s impossible to do so. The fact that you are here right now, speaking to me, is proof that in every single timeline, I never succeed in convincing you to stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing,” Marinette cried. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to return. I have to. I have to...I have to trade. My life for her own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bunnyx regarded Marinette’s face in its lowering resolution, eyes wavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because I can’t stop you doesn’t mean I’m going to help you,” said Bunnyx. “You’ll figure it out.” She vanished into her burrow without another word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before she did, her eye flattened in a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling. The bunny was smiling, even as she crushed Marinette’s hope under one booted foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette sank to her knees, utterly defeated. Dimly, she heard her earrings beeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when she remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Bunnyx wasn’t the only one with the Rabbit Miraculous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dashed all the way back to school without slowing for a single second. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so close</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So close to seeing Félix again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the schoolyard, the very person she needed was putting on her rollerskates. Beside her, Kim was showing off on his skateboard for a gaggle of excited girls from another class. </span>
</p><p><span>“Alix!” Marinette called. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>The pink-haired girl skated over, a gleam in her eyes. “Hey, Marinette! Come to watch the race? If I win, he’s not allowed to dare me to do anything for the rest of the year, and if Kim wins, I have to take him up on every single bet he makes. Fun, right?” She twirled expertly on one rollerblade. </span></p><p><span>“I’m not here to watch, actually. Sorry to interrupt,” Marinette said. “But can I see your watch for a second?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“What for?” Alix asked. “For that matter, how did you know I got it?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“It’s really eye-catching,” Marinette fibbed. To be honest, it was hard not to notice, with the way Alix was preening it, twirling the chain and running her fingers along the decorations on top.</span>
</p><p><span>“I just wanted to check something,” said Marinette vaguely. “Please?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“Yeah, okay.” Alix handed it over and then turned her attention back to Kim. “Give it back after the race.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Turning away from them, Marinette ducked behind the school building and ran her thumb over the inlaid swirls of blue and silver. The rabbit kwami popped out, rubbing her eyes and looking around. “When are we? What time is it? Today or yesterday?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“Fluff,” Marinette said quietly. “Clockwise.” The Miraculous transformed Marinette into a counterpart of Bunnyx, complete with umbrella and timepiece, and she called out “Burrow!” A bright flash of light enveloped her, and she stepped into the waiting portal. In it were thousands upon thousands of holes leading to every timeline imaginable. In one, she saw herself getting a miniature whisk and mixing bowl set for her fifth birthday, in another she saw herself in Chat Noir’s catsuit and ears, running alongside a hero she’d never seen before, with what looked to be a dog Miraculous outfit. </span></p><p>
  <span>She paused at one that was eerily familiar in the most unsettling of ways. Paris, underwater, the Eiffel Tower submerged, and alone on a roof sat a figure, clad in white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, she heard humming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Little kitty on a roof...all alone without his Lady…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Churning waters below sparked and crackled in waves. To fall in would certainly be deadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the humming wasn’t coming from there. It was another portal entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little kitty on a roof...” A blond woman with slanted green eyes was rocking a small child back and forth on her lap as a brown-haired man played the piano, pushing down on the keys as he hummed along. They were laughing. Smiling, close, and warm. A family. A real one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette couldn’t breathe</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Next portal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to destroy the brakes entirely,” a cold voice said. “And then the explosive should have a ten-minute timer from when they start the ignition. Far enough that my Emilie won’t need to blame herself when that leech of a husband and their child--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When they go ka-boom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is no time for games,” Gabriel Agreste snapped. The scene shifted, and Marinette stared into the manically grinning face of Monsieur Villain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand perfectly, M. Agreste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that here. I am Le Papillon. Understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ll kill them good. Then you get your daughter all to yourself, and I get to blow up all the buildings I want. Isn’t that right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Le Papillon?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You really are a monster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be a monster, but my daughter keeps me human. And I will be human. Once I have her back, she’ll never leave me again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Marinette, hurry,” Tikki whispered. “You’re running out of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked through the portals, searching for the right one, and then she saw a familiar one at the far end of the warren. Through the circular window she could see herself lying on a slab, eyes closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was cold and sterile, white sheets draped over ghostlike bodies as fluorescent lights turned overhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette turned away with a shudder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Obituaries: </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Marinette Dupain-Cheng was tragically killed on March 11. The famous superhero Ladybug, as well as a student at Francois Dupont Prep, she had a bright future ahead of her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was a hero to all the people of Paris, and she will never be forgotten.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Here, a graveyard, overcast and dark, with a group of people holding dark umbrellas and surrounding a freshly dug grave--Marinette swallowed hard. In the back, not holding an umbrella, was Félix, staring straight at her through the portal, his eyes meeting hers although there was no way he could have seen her. The rain was pouring down, big drops splattering on his coat, damping his hair and dripping down his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression was unreadable. Not sad, not happy, just blank. As they filled the open grave with earth, he turned and walked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette forced her gaze away from the scene in the rain and to the next one over, which was glowing faintly. Tikki poked her head out of Marinette’s pocket. “That’s it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah….” Marinette patted Tikki’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the rooftop of the Agreste building, three figures were standing at an impasse, trading blows, no one person gaining or losing any ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their mouths were moving as they yelled soundless words, and the snow was falling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cataclysm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardly daring to breathe, for fear she would ruin the timeline and it would close, never to admit her through, Marinette leapt through, and into blinding pain and darkness and cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She landed on her feet as Ladybug. As ash mixed with snow, the shadow of a butterfly crossed the moon and disappeared as a blur of red tumbled through the air, looking like a rag doll in the buffeting wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easy then, almost too easy, to swing out the yo-yo and grab her hand and break the fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette felt a stab of pain as she watched Chat Noir’s mouth open in a soundless scream, but she knew it would be okay, because Ladybug--his Ladybug, that is, would be okay. Bones broken, definitely, but not dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette? Are we done here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Tikki. There’s just one last thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Special Report by Nadja Chamack: Le Papillon Dead, Ladybug Revealed.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In a stunning turn of events, on the night of March 11, Ladybug and Chat Noir met Le Papillon atop the Agreste Building in a final standoff. The villain perished, and was subsequently revealed to be Gabriel Agreste, CEO of Agreste fashion, grandfather to model Félix Graham de Vanily(17).</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ladybug, who was pushed off the top of the Agreste building at the close of the battle, is now in the hospital, recovering from critical injuries. Her identity was revealed as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a high school student at Francois Dupont Preparatory School: time will tell if she will once again don the mask of the Ladybug, now that it is known who she is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>De Vanily has refused to comment on his grandfather’s death, and it is assumed that he feels no animosity towards Ladybug or Chat Noir for what many people call a shocking murder. Agreste was notable for spearheading many innovative projects, both fashion and businesswise, and will be remembered. Time will tell, however, if this was favorable or not. By last count, he had indirectly killed over half the population of Paris, though all lives were recovered thanks to the Miraculous Cure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Retraction:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> This paper wishes to apologize for our earlier printing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Le Papillon’s alter ego has been misidentified as Gabriel Agreste. This is false. We apologize for any confusion and/or inconvenience that this may have caused.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike>
    <b>
      <em>Obituaries: Gabriel Agreste, 74.</em>
    </b>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Known as the notorious villain, Le Papillon, Gabriel Agreste was killed by Ladybug on March 11.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>There will be no funeral for him. </span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>He is survived by his grandson.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Obituaries: Gabriel Agreste, 74.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The CEO of Agreste Fashion passed peacefully in his sleep last night, March 11.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He is survived by his grandson, Félix Graham de Vanily.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He will be remembered quietly as was his wish; no monuments will be dedicated to him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In lieu of flowers, we ask that you donate to the Agreste Fund for the Homeless.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alix, here’s your watch back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you find what you were looking for?” Alix’s voice was strange and cool. Like she knew more than she was letting on. Or maybe Marinette was hearing things…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found exactly what I was looking for.” Impulsively, Marinette threw her arms around the small girl, hearing her let out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whumph</span>
  </em>
  <span> of surprise. “Thank you, Alix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One day, you'll know exactly what I'm thanking you for.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just to explain: the reason there's a retraction and two different obits is because the Agreste brand forced the newspaper to retract the statement, which is oftentimes what happens if highly public figures die embarrassingly and reveal confidential information to the public. Cough. Jeffrey Epstein. Cough.<br/>I hope that that's implied, but just in case.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. if yall are still confused after this like i CANNOT help you im sorry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>one chapter left *hyperventilates*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Still in the before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head was splitting. Everything was dark. She couldn’t move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vaguely there was a light floating in front of her, but her eyes were closed, the redness seeping into her vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her body felt heavy and numb, but as time passed she could feel more of the things around her. A bed, cool thin sheets, a slight pressure on her arm. Occasionally her sheets rustled and she heard people coming and going and through it all, like an underscore, was a low droning hum that was punctuated by a regular beep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time later, she had no way to tell how long it had been, she felt a slight weight on the bed next to her, and then someone holding her hand, lying limp and useless at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Marinette.” The voice was soft and familiar. Her eyes cracked open, dry and painfully. A blur of plaid and pink was perched on her bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone from her school? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Blue hair, cut short in spikes. Black Doc Martens. The Doc Martens she had bought when she was in the other body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t quite sure what to make of me, but I told them I was a cousin. Considering that I’m almost your exact doppelganger, it wasn’t hard to convince the hospital to let me in for a few minutes..” The voice was soft and sweet and almost the same as hers. A little slower in cadence; a little quieter in tone. Marinette’s hand twitched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hh..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t try to talk,” the other Marinette said, because that was who she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Marinette whose body she had occupied for so long. “You need to rest. I just came to check on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I have to speak. Have to tell her…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhausted from the exertion of speaking, her eyes closed, and she cursed them, cursed her failing body, hating herself for not being able to tell the other Marinette what she wanted. What she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before she fell asleep, she heard two words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Comforted, a rosy glow filling her heart, she fell into a dark and painless sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marinette stared at the girl who looked identical to her, watched her chest rise and fall, the machines beeping faintly in the distance. The room was cold, and she tucked the thin sheets more securely around Other Marinette’s faintly trembling shoulders. The sleeping girl’s lids fluttered, and she hummed faintly before falling even deeper asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tear tracked its way down Marinette’s cheek, and she swiped it away viciously. This was the right choice, she knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then why did it hurt so much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open and she jumped off the bed with a yelp. Staring at her, green eyes wide, was Félix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart shuddered. “Hello,” she said politely, keeping her face blank. “Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folded his hands behind his back, his feet slightly apart, expression stiff. Marinette stifled a grin; he was almost quivering with nerves. “I’m Félix Graham de Vanily, and I’m here to visit Marinette. She’s my classmate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s face fell slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just a classmate?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I’ll leave you to it, then.” She made for the exit, fingering the cold metal of the Miraculous in her pocket, but was stopped by a hand on her arm. “Wait. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned to look at Félix, who looked anguished as he clutched her sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung his head. “Will she...want to see me? I--I haven’t come to visit. I didn’t think she would--it was all my fault.” Marinette looked more closely at him and was shocked by what she saw. His skin was almost translucent, the veins standing purple in his hands and eyelids, and his eyes themselves moved rapidly, the bags underneath them a dark gray. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, I’m so insensitive. He lost his father, and he thinks he’s about to lose Ladybug.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Félix, look at me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She will be happy if you visit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wants to see you. I know it’s hard right now, kitty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerked in shock, but she only smiled. “Trust me. You’re meant to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still shaking his head, but his eyes alight with renewed hope, he released her sleeve. “I don’t know how you know, but...thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry I stayed away so long. I didn’t know what to do, what to say...but there’s really no excuses. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please wake up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re the only thing I have left.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This was what forced her eyes to open, just the sheer urge to open them because the hand on hers was achingly familiar and she wanted to open them and why couldn’t she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside her body she sat up and opened her eyes and said hello to Félix, and outside she just lay there because she could not move and it was painful to know that he was within reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could hear him talking, now that she thought about it. He wasn’t speaking louder than a soft whisper, but she could hear it. He was telling her about what he’d done that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I practised the piano for a bit, the Moonlight Sonata, and two hours went by before I realised how long it’d been, and now my hands are sore, but I think I’ve nearly got it. When you wake up I’ll play it for you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your parents came by, but you didn’t wake up then either. They’re nice, very nice. They brought me food, because I’d been here for a while now. I’ll keep waiting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And: </span>
  <em>
    <span>They did a special report on you in the news. I saw it last night when I stopped by the hospital after I went to the hotel. It wasn’t bad, although they spent most of the time talking about your identity being revealed rather than your actual superhero self. But there was one video of you and me that I liked a lot...so I saved it on my phone. We can watch it when you wake up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I brought a book. The one we were reading together for school. I thought I’d finish it for you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She dozed again inside her head while he read 20.000 Leagues, and when she woke up she was ashamed of herself for falling asleep. She’d wanted to listen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Doctors came by, doctors that put cold metal and tape and IV drips in her hands and arms and chest and spoke solemnly and went away again, leaving her all alone inside her head. After a long time of this, she was sick of looking at the reddish light behind her eyelids, so she went away inside, to her memories where she could sit and stay awhile in the comfort of yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shunt in the back of her hand ached, drawing her out of a dream where she and Félix and her parents were all sitting around the kitchen table in the bakery, and Félix was smiling like he never had, and he looked so genuinely happy and at ease that it ached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the next dream she was the main character, and someone was dead, but it was a manga she’d read a long time ago so it was fine and she was in black at the funeral while it rained like it always did at funerals in movies and books and fics. The scene changed, and she was in the kitchen of a little restaurant now, pouring water into chilled glasses and adding a squeeze of lemon to each one because there were more customers than there had ever been here, and Marinette was good at this, now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she really had to wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t she wake up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a sense of unease permeating the air. The manga’s love interest, a black-haired shoujo boy sitting across from her at a small round table looked unusually serious and she could also feel the tension. The beeping that had accompanied everything was growing louder, the machine picking up, spiking with her anxiousness. Marinette wanted to wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why can’t I?” she said, but it was inside her head and no one heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi was growing fuzzy, and her head hurt more than ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wake...up….w--wake</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>up…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wake up wake up wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beeping was frantic, although it was only her imagination. No machines were loud outside, just the humming of the heart reader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was holding her hand again and it was probably Félix and wake up already it’s been long enough--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were dry, glued shut, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>wake up</span>
  </em>
  <span>! She could force them open if she only tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With effort, she managed to get her lids to rise, her lashes to flutter apart from the stickiness holding them together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was dark so it wasn’t painful to open her eyes half-way and turn her head and see Félix, asleep with his face buried in her bed and his hand holding onto hers loosely. He was wearing his school uniform, the same one he’d always worn, although it was wrinkled and a far cry from his normal tidy image. Even his hair, covering his face in sleep, was messy, strands sticking out everywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette kept her eyes open for as long as she could. She wanted to look at him for as long as possible. There was so much she had to say and had to do. She tried to speak, but a catch in her dry throat stopped her. Her mouth was chalky and coated with the sourness of not eating, and she could barely move her tongue. She managed, but barely, to move her lips in a whisper that hurt her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fé...lix.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t have woken up so quickly, not from that faint, pathetic whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marinette,” he said, and then he was smiling like she’d seen him in the dream, all the while his eyes were filling up with tears and then the EKG started to beep as she woke up fully and the doors opened and the lights went on inside and outside in the hallway and the only thing she cared about was that she was finally getting to hold Félix again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The letter was on the table next to her when she awoke, and she ripped open the flap of the pale-pink envelope, eyes hungrily scanning the lines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Marinette.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You left a diary at your house, and I read it. I’m sorry. It was the only way to get my bearings. I should have done the same. Even when I got back, I found the journal you left in my room. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To make up for the lack of knowledge, given that I don’t know if the memories I made in your body will ever return...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here is what I know. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was with a friend when one of Bunnyx’s portals appeared. The world went sideways, and I woke up in your life. I befriended a boy named Felix. That was difficult. You probably know by now that he is the holder of the Cat Miraculous, but just in case. I’m sorry you didn’t find out on your own.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I also kissed him, but that was when I thought I would never make it home. I’m sorry for that, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Le Papillon is dead. His real name was Gabriel Agreste. To sum up, Chat Noir cataclysmed him. Before he died, he pushed me--your body--off a building. And I died. You died.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I returned to my body, took the Rabbit Miraculous, and used it to move through the universes again and break your fall.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I regret that I could not spare your identity from being revealed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know this letter is awfully formal, but I just didn’t know how to speak to you. How does one write to another version of themselves in a different timeline? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The haircut was, if not appreciated, an interesting change. Thank you. For being a different version of me. For proving to me that only I can solve my own problems. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know fate will turn us a bad hand, no matter how much luck the mantle of the Ladybug bestows upon us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You should pass on the mask. Though Le Papillon is dead, Ladybug’s identity should never be known. But then again, that’s your choice. Truly. It’s your world, your life, your Miraculous. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m glad I had the chance to be you, just for a little while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You probably know who this is, but just in case.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(The other) Marinette Dupain-Cheng.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After the return.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I do the right thing, Tikki?” A tear trickled down Marinette’s cheek and she swiped it away. The race was long over, but Marinette was still sitting on the steps, staring into space. “I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette cuddled the small kwami close to her cheek. “I knew you would understand, Tikki.” She rose from the stairs, dusting her pants off. “I’m going home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell on the bakery door jingled faintly. No hurry, not anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I’m home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabine smiled at her daughter. The last month had been strange, to say the least. But she was happy, happy at least, that her daughter was smiling again. Even with newly short hair, even with a different wardrobe, she was still the Marinette that Sabine had raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have a good day today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette grinned at her mother. “I missed you, Maman.” She wrapped her arms around Sabine, breathing in the familiar floury scent of the bakery apron, and let herself linger for a moment. Sabine smoothed her daughter’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “You’re growing up, Mari. And I’m sorry for that, because it means you’ll soon leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette pulled from the hug, her eyes serious. “Maman, I may have made mistakes in the past, but that was because I didn’t know myself. And I promise no matter what, I will never abandon you, or Papa, or this bakery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rosy glow filled Sabine, the sudden realization that her daughter would be all right. “Run along, Mari, you have homework,” she said, turning away. As her daughter scampered up the stairs, she sniffled into a tissue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, dear?” her husband asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Tom, nothing at all.” She hiccupped. “I’m just...happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marinette curled up on her bed and sank back into the pillows, allowing herself to drift into a dream. Some time later, she was awoken by a tapping on her window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you awake?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette rubbed the sleep crust from her eyes and went to the skylight, hauling it open with a thud. There, on her balcony, was Chat Noir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kitty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, it’s me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Purr</span>
  </em>
  <span>incess. Where have you been the last few weeks? You won’t come to the balcony--you haven’t even been getting caught in any akuma attacks. I haven’t had to save you in a month!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette sighed. Even the other Marinette was noticeably less of a clumsy idiot than she was. Noticing Chat Noir’s obvious frustration, she decided to let him off easily. “I was going through some stuff. Just...needed some space, I guess. I’m sorry, Chaton. I should have communicated that to you. And to everyone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir ran a hand through his hair, satisfied. “That’s all right then. But, if you don’t mind, maybe we can talk sometime. I want to be here for you and whatever you’re going through, Mari.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s spine shivered a little at the direct address, and she gave him a soft smile. “That means a lot, Chat. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hopped down from the balcony railing and knocked his shoulder into hers, sending her off balance. She quickly recovered and fake-glared at him. “Do you have a reason for being here so late, mister?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s barely dinnertime,” he protested. “And, well…” His stomach growled, and he blushed. Marinette giggled. “Enough is enough.” Hauling him inside, she shut the balcony door and yelled downstairs to her parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chat Noir is here for dinner!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re having pasta,” her mother hollered back. “You can set the table now while I close up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir blinked at Marinette. “Your parents are just...okay with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They trust me,” Marinette said happily. “And I’m pretty sure they’ve already made you an honorary Dupain-Cheng. </span>
  <em>
    <span>With the amount of croissants you eat…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat Noir glared at her. “I heard that.” Marinette coughed. “What did I say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a buzz of camaraderie, they headed downstairs for dinner, talking and laughing all the way, and the glow did not fade, all the way through dinner, through dessert, and when they finally retreated upstairs after a stern warning from Sabine that Chat Noir should stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>no longer than forty-five minutes!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chat perched on Marinette’s lounger whilst Marinette threaded an embroidery needle with alexandrite green and stabbed it through the fabric stretched on the hoop with more force than was entirely necessary. For some reason, she was nervous, although she couldn’t say quite why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them remained in silence for some minutes, and by some force of nature, both looked up and started to say something at the same time, causing a confused overlap. Marinette coloured, pink dusting her cheeks in embarrassment. “Sorry. You can go first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Chat was also faintly blushing. “I didn’t mean to cut you off. I just wanted to know what you were working on. If it’s not too embarrassing, could I see it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette brought over the embroidery hoop, perching on the lounger next to him. “I was actually working on something that reminded me of you. It was just a stupid thought I had a while ago--but--”</span>
</p><p><span>“If you made it, it’s perfect,” Chat said firmly. He took the hoop from her, being careful not to nick the thin fabric with his claws. Marinette had stretched through the hoop with care, the beginnings of a wide thin black scarf edged with green and the imprint of a cat’s paw on the bottom right corner. “This is supposed to be the symbol on my ring, right?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Yeah.” Marinette’s face was growing steadily redder, try as she might to stop it. “It’s not much...I just liked the idea of it--a-as an accessory, really, not like a winter scarf at all, just--”</span></p><p>
  <span>“It’s great,” Chat assured her. “Is there anyone in mind you were going to give this to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well.” Marinette looked at her hands folded in her lap. “It was for you, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chat smiled, the bright smile that she’d grown to love and look for. “It was? Then I’m the happiest kitty in the world, Princess.” Then his face fell for a moment. “But I don’t have anything for you in return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about a kiss?” Marinette surprised herself by saying, and then she immediately clapped her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t---mean to say that, I mean--it just--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be more than happy to kiss you, Princess,” Chat said. “But only if you want me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette nodded, barely. Then through her hands, so it came out a bit muffled, because she was burning with embarrassment and also freaking out because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chat was leaning in to hear her answer, which was a yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently he pulled her hands away from her mouth. “Can I get a definite yes on that?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Yes,” Marinette said, clearer and louder, and then he tucked his thumb under her jaw and his fingers on the side of her face were tipping her head up towards him. She tilted her head, her eyes sliding shut, because it seemed like the right time. What time were people supposed to close their eyes when kissing? Three seconds away, or more like one?</span><span><br/></span> <span>But she didn’t have time to question it for long, because his lips found hers, warm and slightly rough, but with a softness that surprised her. She kissed him back, and a warm flush started from her mouth, spreading throughout her whole body. If this moment could have been a snapshot, she would have stayed stuck in time forever, just here. Being. </span></p><p>
  <span>Felix was there in her mind. Not as a person, but more as a concept. A stepping stone to teach her more of herself. To give her hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But here, this kiss, it was finding the upsides of this world, as his fingers tangled in her hair and she put her arms around his neck to pull him closer. It was finding the grey areas that she thought were lost, but were just now seeing colour. It was the world that had been wrong, and right again, because she’d make it right, wouldn’t she? She and Chat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're my hope now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could be what she made it into, her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just someone else’s footsteps, trying to make them match up with her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Not with someone else’s shadow that didn’t quite line up. It had to be hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To tell the truth, it wasn’t so bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It never had been. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Deleted Scene:<br/>[at dinner]<br/>“So, uh...I like your outfit.”<br/>“Um. Yeah, it’s all….leather. Just leather.” <br/>And then they FUC--</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. epilogue: the final curtain closes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Six years after. PV Universe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paris was bright today, thought Bridgette as she sat at a small sidewalk cafe. It was good to be home after travelling for so long. She’d been in the Middle East these past two years, soaking in the sunshine and the inspiration from all the places she’d been, but after a doldrums month in Dubai, had at long last returned to Paris, after accepting a temporary job as a museum curator. She’d been meaning to take a break from painting for a while anyway, for fear of getting burned out and losing her spark. It was too bad there wasn’t anyone she knew in Paris that she could practise her Arabic on—she could hold a passable conversation with someone speaking only that language, she thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she hadn’t returned solely for herself, of course. It hadn’t been in her own self-interests. There were and would always be loose ends to tie up. Taking a bite of her strawberry tart, Bridgette turned her attention back to the newspaper she’d been perusing moments before.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the Cannes Film Festival yesterday evening, a select few guests were part of the awards ceremony presented by Mlle. Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of the former mayor of Paris and noted host with acclaim to fashion and the arts. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fans of Quand Elle Avoue and Crown of the Villainess will be pleased to note that the director of the wildly popular film, Harajuku Nights, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as the former superhero Ladybug, received several awards for her most recent film. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not about making something for the masses,” Dupain-Cheng, 24, said to reporters after the ceremony, “It’s about capturing the spark of another life. What could have been, and what could be. That’s what filmmaking is all about. Finding new worlds to bring to life.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Also noted was her fiancé, Félix Graham de Vanily, rising quickly to fame in the world of music. Although first and foremost a pianist, he also created and performed the tracks for Dupain-Cheng’s recent film. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The couple accepted several awards between them, and will be partnering together on future works. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Other recipients of the Cannes awards include—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridgette stood, tossing her tart wrapper into a nearby trash can. She had one last place to be before she returned to her job at the Louvre. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the bakery, comfortingly scented with flour and sugar and vanilla as it always was, even with no one home, Bridgette climbed the stairs to the second floor. Instead of going into her own room, which she had temporarily taken back over, she opened the door to her sister’s room, already knowing what she would see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pink walls, fluffy pillows on the bed, soft carpet, and a tiny ladybug god dozing in the center of the bed, her featherlight self not even making a dent in the covers. She blinked awake upon hearing the creak of the door and upon seeing Bridgette, zipped into the air. “Bridgette! It’s been such a long time since we saw each other last!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Tikki,” Bridgette said. “Are you doing okay? I just came to check on you. Marinette’s not leaving you alone too much, is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” The kwami shook her head and then dived into a backflip in midair. “I wanted to rest for a bit anyway. I’m feeling odd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Odd as in...more energetic?” Bridgette asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tikki nodded. “Maybe. Now that Marinette’s no longer Ladybug, and there’s no one really using any of the Miraculouses, the others have been...restless. I too, feel the urge to find a new holder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridgette gently picked the earrings up from their little niche and slipped them into her ears. “You don’t think I could be the Ladybug again, could you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too dangerous,” Tikki reproached. “You already learned that lesson. Marinette did as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But still.” Bridgette sighed despite herself. “I had fun. But you’re right. We should hand it on. Tell Marinette about it, okay? Don’t mention me, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” said Tikki promptly. “Goodbye, Bridgette.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Tikki.” Bridgette took the earrings out, laying them back in their places, and closed the door softly behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how do you feel, love?” Felix smiled at his fiance, who lay on the soft bed in the hotel room, entirely exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even have to ask?” She rubbed a weary hand over her blue eyes, closing them briefly. Felix leaned over her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, you did well. Your speech was, ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>eloquent.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Marinette sat straight up and threw a pillow at him. “I choked because you winked at me right in the middle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix laughed. “It’s nice to know I still give you butterflies, Mari.” Marinette rolled her eyes, blushing. “Whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, you did good.” His tone softened. “I’m proud of you. This isn’t always easy. I don’t know how you do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette’s eyes deepened, a sadness overtaking her face. “I miss being Ladybug. Wasn’t that the whole point of this new film, anyway? Being who you could never be with the chains of your identity still attached. You shouldn’t have given up Plagg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix frowned. “I didn’t give him up, technically. I just...I’m waiting to pass him on. There’s a girl who I think…” His voice trailed off. “The daughter of one of the screenwriters. She--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I know who you mean,” Marinette said thoughtfully. Her mind wandered, to the face of a girl with black hair and brown eyes, narrowed in concentration. She didn’t smile much, but when she did, it was sharp and sincere. “She reminds me of you, or how you used to be, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before we met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no.” Marinette giggled. “You were still acting like a stone column </span>
  <em>
    <span>while</span>
  </em>
  <span> we were meeting. Well, while I was pursuing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was remaining loyal to milady!” Felix mock-argued. Marinette rolled over in bed and wrapped an arm around his side. “Who turned out to be me. I guess you won in the end, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix turned to face Marinette and kissed her until her head spun. When they broke apart, she crawled under the covers and flipped off the light, settling into Felix’s warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dreamt of another world, with another Marinette, one who had given up her love for the original. In that dream, tears were slipping from both of their eyes. Tears of sadness, but also of joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve grown, haven’t we?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve changed in ways we never thought we would.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you regret giving this life back to me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other Marinette shook her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was always only borrowing it. I needed to be someone else. To realize--</span>
  </em>
  <span> she paused-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>To realize the value of being me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette hugged her.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Thank you for saving my life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And thank you for changing mine. Did you take to heart what I said in the letter?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her face was blurring, fading. </span>
  <em>
    <span>About passing on the Miraculous? I can feel it. The anticipation. They need a new holder, Marinette. The gods will not stay silent for long. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanted to…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wanted to hold on for longer? I understand. But this too, shall pass. Pass it on, Marinette. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will always be Ladybug. You’ve never needed a mask to be her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The dream ended with a sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few days later</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In the relative seclusion of the children’s home that Marinette had ventured to, in hopes of finding a worthy bearer of the Miraculous, she faced the person she’d chosen--a fifteen-year-old girl, with warm brown skin, big brown eyes, and a bright pop of curls wreathing her face and spiralling down to her shoulders, dyed in copper and rust tones. From the first moment, when Marinette had brought pastries and sweets from the bakery, she’d stood out, when she immediately jumped to help Marinette hand out the croissants and pain au chocolats, as well as making sure everyone got a fair share and everyone was present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe just one instance of kindness wasn’t the best thing to go off of, but Marinette just had a feeling about her, and judging from the way Tikki kept popping her head out to sneak peeks of the girl, she figured it was the best kind of a gut feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment of privacy in which to best do this, she’d asked Aicha to show her around the children’s home, and the girl had happily obliged, taking Marinette up to the room that she shared with three other girls, now mercifully empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Marinette held out the Miraculous box to the curly-haired girl, a smile on her face. The teenage girl looked excited, albeit somewhat nervous, as she received it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aicha, I’m passing on this Miraculous to you. Do you swear to use it only for good and to defend justice where justice is due, and to never reveal your identity to anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” said Aicha firmly, slipping the earrings on. Tikki floated up in a burst of brilliant pink light, and the young girl shielded her eyes. “Whoa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Tikki, your kwami. I embody the Ladybug and her powers. To transform, just say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tikki, spots on.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tikki, spots on!” In another moment, there was a bright burst of reddish-pink light, and Aicha transformed. Her costume was similar to Marinette’s, but the arms were full black, as were the legs up to mid-calf, and there were thin ribbons of black spiralling up the back. “So cool,” she breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as evil exists, there will always be a need for Ladybug,” said Marinette. “Can I trust you with this power?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, the new Ladybug swung out the window, just as Marinette had done so many times previously, to where there was a black-clad girl running and leaping along the rooftops with impossible speed, long black ponytail streaming out like a dark banner along the skyline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir were beginning all over again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We’re at the end, and it’s been a long time coming, (for me and my problems that i keep running away from and they keep catching up to me, anyway)<br/>Thank you to every single one of you who commented, left kudos, and read this. It means tons to us that you even processed a single incomprehensible word from this fic, and like. I’m overwhelmed with the sheer number of hits we got. Yknow. This is the highest-rated fic we’ve ever written. Yet another reason why the Miraculous Ladybug fandom is so awesome--y’all actually come through for us struggling writers(!)<br/>	Special thanks go to Marichat_luvDoA and Guesst for commenting on like every single chapter and generally being sexy-AF Miraculers, because your comments honestly made our day, and, were like the single sole reason we managed to pull through and finish this bitch:D<br/>	We hope you’ll come back in two weeks, as I (Lalie) am launching my next fic, and yes it will be Marinette and Félix being dumbasses(but canon world, not PV, because i have a thing for Satan incarnate Félix from the show…) and in this one, Félix is going to act like such a jerk and I will KEEP HIM being an ass until they kiss...or until I die. But enemies to lovers is the hill I will die on bc damn. It slaps.<br/>	Anyway, I really hope you’ll read it because I’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time writing, trying to finish this one whilst making my new one with the same care and quality as this one.<br/>	Leave a comment if you’d like us to ping you on launch day of the new fic, or if you’re not into that, just lurk around for a week or so until we post it:)<br/>	Again, thank you all so so so much and we love you and this is super long so---<br/>	Go listen to Ce Mur Qui Nous Separe by Lou et Lenni-Kim or something why the fuck are you still reading</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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